


Briar and Bramble

by Bialy



Series: From the Classifieds [2]
Category: My Time At Portia (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Love Letters, Rivals to Lovers, letter writing, small town vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bialy/pseuds/Bialy
Summary: The Builder puts a letter in the classified section of the Portia Times. Higgins replies. While their anonymous correspondence heats up, so do tensions between the pair as circumstances - and friends - force them to consider each other in a new light.
Relationships: Builder/Higgins (My Time At Portia), Female Builder & Higgins (My Time At Portia), Female Builder/Higgins (My Time At Portia), background Gust/Albert
Series: From the Classifieds [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764088
Comments: 21
Kudos: 62





	1. Love Like The Devil

**Author's Note:**

> (she said oh, I'm looking for a love like the devil
> 
> who would have thought what we would find?)
> 
> Directly follows on from Lonely Hearts: follows the Builder responding to the first letter.
> 
> Turns out it's from Higgins, of all people.

_Dear Lasciviously Yours,_

_Your letter is intriguing, but notably scant on details. As expected, for one fishing for such epistolary companionship in a public forum. Perhaps you’ll grace me with a note on your expectations, hopes...boundaries? If I’m to commit to this endeavour, I must of course first ascertain that it’s worth both of our effort and attention. I’m sure you’ll agree._

_I don’t intend to commit any more to a letter left in a place publicised in the_ Times _. You’ll write back and leave the letter in the hollow on the largest tree on Amber Island by Wednesday evening. I hope to find it a suitably diverting use of my time._

_Yours – potentially,_

_Mr X._

_*_

_To the elusive Mr X.,_

_I appreciate both your response and your dedication to discretion. I scouted the tree hollow prior to writing this – it’s a very suitable hiding place and I have reason enough to be on Amber Island frequently should you wish to make this a regular exchange._

_What am I looking for? Honestly, a diversion. Portia is a great place to live and I enjoy my life here, but by the fact of your response I imagine you’ll agree that it’s not perhaps the most permissive or carnally adventurous of places. I’m happy with the reputation I’ve earned myself in this community, but a woman has needs – needs I’d rather have an outlet for in between out-of-town trips. I’m not explicitly looking for a rendezvous, but some alluring thoughts to keep me company when I’m hesitant to bring another body into things would be extremely welcome. I’ve always enjoyed the written word, particularly when it’s at its most provocative, and though I tend more to the practical in my day-to-day it’s nice to engage in something slightly more cerebral in my down time. Although, how cerebral dirty letters are is a matter of debate, I suppose._

_I’m not comfortable revealing my identity, for the reasons listed above. At least, not at this point. I’m not really ruling anything out. I’d prefer the same mystery from you for the time being, but if you do choose to name yourself I can guarantee Ill conduct myself with the utmost discretion, unless it could cause harm to others (I won’t be responsible for interfering in a relationship)._

_I’ll keep an eye out for your next letter, should you be interested in continued correspondence._

_LY x_

_*_

It takes Cat longer she would like to admit to convince herself of the security of the Amber Island drop spot, write her response, and pluck up the nerve to leave it for her potential paramour to find. She has surprised herself with her hesitancy: perhaps something about it being suddenly very real, or the worry about being spotted, has got to her. And the very real possibility of things leaking to the community at large…

No. She shakes her head. This is fine. There’s nothing even too dubious in her letters yet – and she can stop at any time. She had made herself get up early this morning and head straight out to Amber Island, hoping to be back in time for the early spot at the Commerce Guild.

Unfortunately, Higgins has beaten her today too.

Cat grinds her teeth as she sees the skinny bastard slip into the doors ahead of her. It’s a Friday, too, which is a particular piss off because that’s when the clutch out-of-town commissions come in, and Higgins is going to get first dibs. Not for the first time, she curses herself for agreeing to the “first through the door, first to pick” rule – but it does save a lot of stress hanging over the board, and honestly, she is usually the first one there.

Things have just...slipped lately.

Cat bites her lip as she pushes through the door. Maybe her recent preoccupation with...matters of a more _personal_ nature have been distracting her. She’ll have to be careful to keep things in good balance moving forward. The whole point of approaching things like this is to _avoid_ distractions – and scandal.

Higgins _tsks_ at her as she approaches the board, but doesn’t look away from the commissions. “Late again, alleycat.”

Cat rolls her eyes. Not her favourite of his little nicknames, but better than the first couple of months when it had been ‘twerp this, twerp that’. It was good to see Higgins was expanding his vocabulary, even if it was with not-so-clever plays on her name.

“Move it along, Higs.”

His brow crinkles at the name, which she thinks it pretty rich, and he goes back to ignoring her. Which suits her fine. He’s absent the gloating today, though, as he plucks what she has no doubt is the choiciest commission from the board and brushes past her.

Cat peruses what’s left, looking for the telltale banner to guide her choice. Atara this time, looking for balloon platforms. Unsurprising – Portia’s new _balloon bonanza_ has been a popular draw. She grabs it off the board and turns for her morning chat with Antoine, who is shaking his head at Higgins’ departing figure.

“All work and no play,” he says, sadly. “If that boy let himself relax, he might even be quite tolerable.”

Cat snorts. “And undo all the work he’s put in to making himself unlikeable?”

Antoine inclines his head. “He does seem to work at it. Who knows – maybe deep down, he just needs a hug.”

“Not it,” she says quickly, raising her hand. “Not it, times infinity.”

_*_

With the whole weekend ahead of her for the balloon platforms, Cat figures she can spend a little of her morning catching up on some of her social commitments. Albert, to her surprise, isn’t in his office, though Gust waves her off in the direction of the clinic.

“Hassling Phyllis, I can only imagine,” he says, although not without an odd fondness, an a strange expression crossing his face.

“How’s my favourite boy in this whole town, anyway?” Cat drops to her knees as QQ ambles over, snuffling for a treat. She pulls out her customary apple.

“I’m quite well, thank you for asking.”

She sighs and looks up at Gust. “I hate that we taught you humour.”

“Well, you and Albert should have thought about that before you went through all the effort getting me to ‘lighten up’.” Gust smirks, turning back to his work.

“I like your pig more than you, you know.”

“Many do. He’s frankly adorable.”

QQ spits a chunk of apple at Cat’s feet, as if to protest this. “No, he’s right,” she tells the pig. “You’re very cute.”

She’s nearly at the door when Gust cranes around and calls back to her. “Did you get any mail from Albert this morning?”

“No, why?”

Gust rolls his eyes. “I knew he wouldn’t get it out for last post yesterday. I shouldn’t really say – unfair advantage and all that – but we’re going to be starting work on the harbour soon. New commissions, you know.”

Cat perks up. “Oh? Any inside info for me?”

He shakes his head. “Albert’s in charge of them. He might be able to let you know some more. I honestly thought that was why you’d come in.”

“Nah. I just haven’t seen him in a while, thought he might like to hang out over the weekend.”

Gust gives her a look that’s difficult to work out. “Hm.”

“What?”

“Just...” He pauses, evidently looking for the right words. “Albert can be...if he gets the wrong – well, not wrong, but _an_ idea, and -”

Cat holds up her hand. “If I promise not to have a torrid fling with your partner, would that help?”

Seemingly satisfied, he turns back to his desk. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt.”

“See you later, Gust.”

“See you.”

The walk up to the clinic is pleasant. She considers having another quick look for letters by the ruin, but then, she has two left on her desk she hasn’t replied to, as well as one response out in the world already. The point becomes moot, anyway, as Albert is lingering in front of the ruins.

“Hey!” she calls, as she gets close.

Albert jumps, looking momentarily guilty. _Was he looking for the letters, too? I did put the drop point out there for the whole town to see…_

_Oh shit, was he_ leaving _one?_

Albert’s not bad looking, and honestly if it wasn’t for the business relationship between then Cat might have flirted with the idea of propositioning him some time. But he’s always seemed like the type to fall too hard and too fast, and Cat really isn’t sure if that’s something she’s ready for, no matter how charming Albert can be.

“Hey you,” he calls back, sticking his hands in his pockets, a pseudo-relaxed smile now plastered across his face.

“Wanted to see if you were free tomorrow for lunch or something.”

“Oh! Ah, yes, I could be. That would be great.” His smile slips into something more natural. She thinks about asking him what’s got him so worked up, but she’s worried she might be right, and then wouldn’t _that_ be awkward.

“Excellent. Meet at the Round Table at one?”

“Works for me.” Albert pauses, and then casts her a curious look. “What are you doing up here? You don’t have your mining gear.”

She thinks he sees his eyes dart to the loose-rock hiding place. She chooses to ignore it. “Looking for you. Gust said you were up here. He also said you might have some interesting secret information about some commissions that might be coming up soon?”

Albert’s smile turns a little smug and secretive. “Maybe. Can’t give away too much, of course, but if you were to take your drill up to the Western Plateau you might find yourself particularly well equipped with materials for our next project.”

Cat grins and claps her hands in delight. “That’s the rest of my day sorted. See you tomorrow, Albert.”

“Bye for now, mate.”

*

Hours pass in the autumn sun and a pleasant breeze, before Cat returns home laden with igneous rock and bags of zeolite. She looks up some ways to process them and sets her machines to go before heading inside, collapsing tired but happy onto her sofa.

She loved it here. She loved the work, she loved the people. Being out in nature and getting what she needed herself – bringing it home, crafting it into something useful and needed. Good work and good friends. The only thing missing…

The two unanswered letters sit on her desk, along with the note from Mr X. She looks all over three, thinking of Albert and his turns of phrase, his attitudes. Mr X., she thinks, with some relief, couldn’t possibly be him. There’s nothing in the slightly arrogant language that reminds her of her friend. Gust maybe – although she doubts that. The fondness in his tone today when he spoke of Albert, coupled with his last almost-warning…

No. She doesn’t think Mr X. is Gust.

Either of the other two letters could, potentially, be from Albert though. She’s far from sure, but decides it’s best not to reply to either for now. She tucks them into the back of a drawer, leaving Mr X.’s missive a little nearer the front. Just in case there’s a reply.

_*_

_LY,_

_For someone preoccupied with anonymity, you have already begun to leave far too many breadcrumbs as to your identity in your letter. Fear not – I’m far from working out who you are and I don’t intend to try. Just a warning that you could be a little more discreet. For that – and many more reasons, similar enough to yours – I won’t be revealing my identity. Let it satisfy you that I’m going behind no one’s back and have no children or grandchildren to scandalise. The worst harm that would come to me from this is some scorn, and I’m plenty equipped to deal with that._

_I still feel unclear as to exactly what you’re looking for. Are you hoping for an idle flirtation, some pretty words to clutch to your chest in between these alluded-to out of town rendezvous? Or are you looking for something more explicit – something to bring slickness beneath seeking fingers? Should I be praising your imagined beauty, or telling you how I would satisfy myself with your cunt? I’ll be blunt – I don’t have much time for romance. I’m a busy man. The latter option would be much more to my tastes._

_Do let me know._

_X._

_*_

Cat stares down at the letter in her hands. The underlying arrogance is still there, but X seems to be the sort to cut to the point. That he left something like this just tucked into a tree on Amber Island…

The reality of things – of this whole odd endeavour – comes to her in a rush. Anyone could find these. Anyone could be leaving them. She appreciates his assurances, but at the end of the day, that’s all they are – assurances. This is reckless. This could backfire. This could have consequences.

But.

She runs her fingers over the last few sentences and imagines the hand writing them, imagines him deciding what to say to illicit a response – or maybe just dashing the words down, as confident in himself as the rest of his letters suggest. She traces _satisfy myself with your cunt_ and a rush of heat runs through her. She shivers.

No. This will be fine.

She’ll just be careful.

*

_X.,_

_Well, your last letter certainly got to the heart of things. I’m almost grateful. Despite my note in the_ Times _, I wasn’t entirely sure how to broach my intentions – particularly as you can never be sure who’s at the other end of the page. I appreciate your assurances on your availability and can attest to mine as well. However (and I’ll bear in mind your warning about revealing too much of myself too soon) I do feel there’d be a risk to my reputation if this sort of letter of mine was made public, so please don’t try to hard to work me out._

_Some honesty: the abruptness in your last letter already sent a shiver to the area in question. I’m hopeful this correspondence will be productive for both of us. And I appreciate you being direct in your desires. Let’s assume we’re both stunning examples of the human form and leave the compliments there. I’m much more interested in what you and I can do for each other in very real terms. So tell me, is it just my cunt you’d satisfy yourself with? I can assure you, I have plenty more to offer._

_LY._

_*_

_Plenty more to offer_ runs through his mind as he dresses that morning. _Plenty more to offer_ , as he stokes his furnaces, setting aside the bars done smelting from the night before. _Plenty more to offer_ , as he hurries up to the Commerce Guild, only to see _her_ duck through the doors ahead of him.

“What do you know?” she says, smiling slyly as she plucks a commission off the board. There are a lot today. The new harbour commissions must have been posted. And of course she got here first. Probably got a tip off from her buds over at A&G. As if friendship, not talent, should determine - “I’ve actually prepped a batch of concrete over the weekend. Lucky me. Maybe I’ll pop back for another one later.”

The alleycat is in an annoyingly good mood today. He glowers at her as he snatches up a commission for waterproof cloth, _plenty more to offer_ suddenly ringing in his ears in her smug tone, spite curdling his gut as he imagines drawing any pleasure out of a woman like her – or worse, _her_ drawing pleasure from _him_.

It is this bitterness (and perhaps, though he would never admit it, a curling of heat simmering deep within him as he remembers the glint in her eyes as she smirked at him, the lilt of her lips) that sits with him as Higgins writes his response to _Lasciviously Yours._

*

_LY,_

_I’m sure you’re content to think of yourself as a woman of many talents. I’m curious which of them you’d break out first in an attempt to impress me. I can be a difficult man to please. Rest assured I’d be unlikely to limit myself to any one part of your anatomy – why do us both out of the joys of exploration? The question would be how far I could go before you’d be begging me – though whether to stop or let you find release is a question only you can answer. Perhaps I’d deny you. Perhaps you don’t deserve it._

_It surprised me to hear you’d had a physical response from my last letter alone. Are you truly so quick to arousal? Has it been so long, or are you just a wanton little slut, desperate to be teased and toyed with? You’ve done very little to arouse my interest so far – although I’ll admit writing to you has been a pleasant change of pace._

_Do you have any plans to change that?_

_X._

_*_

The letter arouses her as much as it angers her, each fuelling the other until Cat finds herself in such a state that she downs tools, unable to focus any longer, and sits back down at her desk, the offending missive in front of her.

Who does he think he is?

_You’ve done very little to arouse my interest so far_ – and one casual drop of the c-word constitutes effort, does it? _Men_. People like him are half the reason she turned to this, sick of the self-satisfied hook ups she’d snatched on business trips, men thinking their union had more to do with their prowess than her needs.

_How far I could go before you’d be begging me_ – the arrogance, the assumption! And _are you just a wanton little slut_ heats her, her body responding as she rereads the word even as she internally snaps at herself for the way it makes her feel. _An attempt to impress me_ – of course he has positioned himself in the place of power, the one to be serviced, to be pleased. She wants to write back with a litany of insults, a list of her accomplishments – she wants to ball the letter in the trash and never reply at all.

She wants to beat someone into the ground. She wants to get another letter, one she can take to bed with her and let her anger carry her into a different kind of heat.

She leaves home spoiling for a fight.

At first, Cat thinks about seeking out Arlo. A tough one to beat even on her best days – but no, she doesn’t want to _spar,_ to _play._ She wants to _fight._

So she heads down to the eastern gate, and waits outside Higgins workshop until the man himself rounds the corner and then, with her back to him, very deliberately plucks a pair of copper bars from his furnace and sets out towards the gate.

“You little _thief!”_

She hears his footsteps pounding behind her just as she rounds the gate, dropping her bag into the soft grass and turning to meet him.

Cat catches the first punch Higgins throws and pushes him back, though without the force she’d hoped. His lips curl into a sneer as he prowls towards her.

“Are you so desperate to beat me that you’re resorting to sabotage and theft? _Again_?”

Cat puts her hands on her hips, cocking her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice your workshop top mine in the rankings. Oh wait, that’s because it didn’t.”

Higgins growls and shifts into another jab, which she dodges and sends one of her own darting towards his stomach. To her surprise, he catches her and swings her round, arm around her collar as he pulls her against him.

And it’s the mood the letter put her in, she knows it, she knows it’s nothing more, but for an instant, her treacherous body _thrills_.

“At least my ranking is due to _skill_ , and not from sucking up to the right people.”

She writhes against him, testing for a weakening in his grip, when his free hand lands on her hip, shocking them both. Cat is the first to recover, twisting and flipping Higgins over, landing atop him and straddling him, arm across his neck.

He looks up at her hatefully, but with the same grudging respect she always sees when she beats him fair and square. That’s the problem, she realises. He will never think the workshop ranking are fair and square because he puts it down to her _friendships_ , not her skill.

“Yeah, no. It just turns out it’s easier to get work done when you’re not _actively alienating_ all your suppliers and commissioners.”

Her smugness doesn’t last as with a sudden burst of movement, Higgins flips her, pressing her body to the ground with his. Again, something dark and desirous spins through her, even as she braces her arms against him to push him off. He grabs her wrists and forces them above her head, and in an instant the uncomfortable sexuality of their position hits her. They’ve sparred before, fought before – pinned each other before – but something about this feels different.

“None of that was a problem before you turned up and started batting your eyelashes at them.”

It’s the letter. She knows that. That, and the fact that she doesn’t have any complicating feelings of friendship for Higgins – he just plays too neatly into the anger X’s last letter had brought out in her. Which is why, of course, this is the perfect way to work that anger off.

She flips him again, knees on his shoulders, grinning down at him. “I’m just the better builder, Higs. Maybe you should try batting your eyelashes a bit more. I’m a woman of many talents – it’s going to take more than what you’ve been putting out so far to beat me.”

Higgins struggles beneath her, but this time he can’t get free. Satisfied she’s won this round, she pats his cheek and climbs off. He is still righting himself when she drops the bronze bars next to him.

“Consolation prize,” she says, dropping him a wink. “Mine are better quality, anyway.”

She can feel his glower burning into her as she strolls away, and it feels like warm sun.

She is in a much better mood when she returns home. Quite ready to reply to the letter.


	2. You Look Like My Next Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (new money, suit and tie, i can read you like a magazine  
> ain't it funny, rumours fly, and i know you've heard about me)
> 
> Something about X.'s letters rankles Cat. She wishes everyone advice wasn't just 'talk about it', though.

_My dear smug ass X,_

_You seem so terribly sure of yourself. Would I find myself, if we were to meet, so very desperate for your approval? The fact that you’re writing back to me – and so quickly, too – indicates you don’t have a plethora of other options, and are likely just as on edge as I am. Are you trying to provoke me into explicitness? Into a mewling nymphet dedicated to your pleasure? I can assure you, dear X, that will never happen. We are both in this for ourselves, are we not?_

_Perhaps for the tone in your letter, I’d grip you a bit too hard, dangling you on the edge between pleasure and pain, nails digging into your shaft. And perhaps I’d leave you unsatisfied, only your own hands for comfort. I know mine can bring me a lot of pleasure. I wonder if yours would be up for the task._

_LY._

_*_

Higgins finds the letter late into the evening the day after he sparred with Cat. It occurs to him that the tree on Amber Island was visible from where they had fought, and that his mystery writing partner may have even witnessed his defeat. Of course, it makes no matter – neither of them knows who the other is.

Still, something about it stings.

The letter itself brings him less enjoyment that he’d hoped. He gets the sense that she’s chiding him, behind the erotic surface, and finds himself bristling at her challenge. The letter he writes in return is, perhaps, charged with a little more than lust.

He sets back out that same night, deliberately ignoring her jibe about his _quick responses_. He is heading back from the island, towards his workshop, when he hears an all-too familiar voice and ducks quickly out of sight behind a tree.

A slender figure in white comes into view, followed by the alleycat’s graceless form. Cat and Ginger are headed down to the shore, and Higgins realises he should be able to avoid them completely if he just waits here for them to pass.

“..don’t think you should have taken them in the _first_ place, Cat.”

“I gave them back!”

“It isn’t really the point, though.”

Their voices drift towards him as they draw closer. Ginger sounds faintly chiding, and Higgins is pleased to hear that Cat does, in fact, sound relatively chided.

“He just gets on my nerves.” He sees Cat shrug, her jacket falling off her shoulder. He sees a glimpse of her skin before she pulls it back in place.

“Because he’s trying to. And you try to get on his nerves, too.”

“Higgins tries to get on everyone’s nerves.”

He realises unpleasantly that they are talking about the altercation from the previous day. Why is she blabbing about this to Ginger, of all people? And he _doesn’t_ get on _everyone’s_ nerves -

“He doesn’t get on everyone’s nerves,” Ginger says, and he feels smugly grateful to her.

“Okay, but no one gets on your nerves.”

“Not just me. There’s plenty of people who...”

They have moved too far away for him to catch the rest of her sentence. For a brief, wild moment, he considers following them, to hear Ginger’s defence of him and Cat’s inevitable blathering rebuttal. Instead, he stays hidden, and watches them wind their way down to the shore before ducking behind the wall.

By the time he has reached his workshop, he has begun to regret some of the phrasing in his letter. But it’s too late now.

*

_Ms LY,_

_I’m a man extremely proficient with his hands. Rest assured that under my ministrations I’d have you as a ‘mewling nymphet’ as you so delightfully put it in no time. But dedicated to my pleasure? No. I’d rather see the climbing desperation in your eyes as you search for your own peak, begging me to help you find it. If you found your own hands and your own company sufficient, you wouldn’t have reached out as you did. So please, spare me your dramatics._

_From your writing so far, I have no doubt you’d grip me uncomfortably (punishment, or inexperience? The former, I’m most sure) until I put you to rights. I do doubt, however, that you could leave me hanging on the edge, unfinished. I suspect you’d find yourself unable to stop once you begun. I suspect you’re the type of person who draws pleasure from the pleasure of others: something I’d be more than happy to help you with, since you are finding your own company insufficient. To have you chasing high after high under my fingers and tongue as you take me gratefully into your mouth._

_If I let you._

_X._

_*_

“You’re in a terrible mood today,” Arlo observes, dodging yet another one of her punches. She knows, and it’s making her sloppy, and she knows that too, dammit.

“I’m lucky you haven’t managed to hit me yet. You’d probably take my head off.”

Cat gives up and drops to the floor, laying down with a loud huff. “Okay. I’m in a horrible mood.”

Arlo lies down next to her, stretching his arms before folding his hands behind his head. “What’s up?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She can feel, more than see, his eye roll.

“Oh, yeah, because you’re king of talking about your feelings.”

“Don’t have to be a chef to know the soup tastes bad.”

Cat props herself up on her elbow and stares at him. “Don’t have to be a what about soup now?”

“I don’t have to like talking about my feelings to know it would probably help you to talk about yours. Especially since you normally love that sort of thing. Usually can’t get you to shut up -” He breaks off with a laugh as she shoves him in mock-annoyance, before dropping back down onto the grass.

“Yeah. I know.” She pauses, looking up at the sky. How to put it? What to say to avoid...saying any of it? “Someone...was mean to me? I guess?”

Arlo glances over at her. “Is this about your fight with Higgins the other day?”

“What? No. Besides, I did sort of start that. No, this is someone else. And I don’t know if it was about me, specifically, it just sort of felt like...lashing out.”

“Who?”

Cat decides to sidestep the question. “Oh, so you can go scowl them into apologising? No thanks, Captain Arlo, not everything has to be town business.”

“Screw me for trying to help, I guess,” he says, but she can hear him smile.

“Exactly, screw you.”

“Maybe you can scowl them into apologising. You do have quite the scowl.”

“No I don’t,” she says, scowling.

“I don’t even need to look to know you’re scowling right now.”

She forces her expression to relax. “Am not.”

“Whatever you say, Cat.” Arlo pauses, stretching again, all taut muscles and easy power. Cat watches him out of the corner of her eye and tries to match the smarmy, arrogant tone of the letters to him. It doesn’t fit. A little disappointing, but she’s glad the mystery remains. “If you think it was lashing out, why not tell them that?”

She scowls again. “It’s not my job to teach every rude arsehole how to hold a civil conversation.”

He laughs. “No, it definitely isn’t. But I guess that’s the thing. With whoever this is, with everyone. You choose what you’ll put up with, and you choose what you’ll call people out on. If you think someone’s worth the effort, it’s worth putting _in_ the effort.”

Cat rolls over into him, feeling his arm land round her, easily, comfortably. She feels a little pang. It would be nice if Arlo was her letter writer. She could tell him straight up he was a jackass and he would say sorry and then maybe she could roll over again and fuck him in the grass.

But no. The whole point of the letters is she doesn’t know, she _can’t_ know who in town would be fine with something casual like that, and Arlo’s impressive pecs are not worth risking their friendship for.

He tucks her closer against him. They’re very impressive pecs, though.

*

The Round Table is busy that night. No fewer than five of the Hulu brothers have colonised a table in the corner, only Siwa and Liuwa missing. Albert is throwing darts to try to impress Ginger, much to Gust’s chagrin, in the back. Cat is at the bar, Antoine on one side and Emily on the other, as Sonia mixes their drinks.

“As if I have to work tonight,” she pouts.

“Aw, come on.” Emily grins at her. “You’re getting paid to hang out with us.”

Sonia puts a hand to her forehead in mock-heartbreak. “But I can’t _drink_! I just have to watch _you_ drink!”

Antoine nods. “It’s hard, it’s really hard.” He takes a long sip of his drink, nearly snorting it out at Sonia’s affronted look.

“Ugh. Oh, but anyway!” She turns to Cat, suddenly laser-focused. “What’s this I hear about you canoodling with the captain of the Civil Corps?”

Cat nearly drops her fork. “What, Arlo? When?”

“ _Today_. Snuggling out near the Tree Farm…?” She raises one perfectly styled brow.

“What? We were sparring then we had a rest together. I hugged him. I hug everyone.” She paused. “Wait, who told you that anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter who told me,” Sonia says airily, waving a hand and sliding a fresh drink towards Emily. “Are you sure there’s nothing happening? He’s awfully _strong_.” Her voice curls on the word in a way that leaves Cat in no doubt as to her meaning.

“Yes, I’m sure. Sorry to...disappoint?”

Sonia pouts. “It is disappointing, actually. I was hoping at least one of us suddenly had something racy going on.”

“Isn’t it nearly time for _you_ to start making eyes at Albert again?” Antoine asks, point at Sonia with his straw.

“Ugh. He’s like, completely stopped asking me out. Phyllis too.”

Phyllis too? Cat glances behind them, towards the games room. Ginger is laughing at some joke Albert seems to have made, but his eyes aren’t on her. Gust is only barely smiling, but Albert seems more focused on his friend’s reaction than the alleged object of his affection.

“Wonders never cease, I guess,” she says, picking up her fork again.

“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if you had something secretly sexy going on? All of you?”

“It’s Portia,” Emily says, sighing. “Nothing secretly sexy is going on here.”

Antoine nudges her. “Look at you sounding so wistful. Wanting a bold knight to sweep you off your feet and ravish you?”

Emily goes pink just as Django appears behind the counter next to Sonia. “What’s this about knights and ravishing?"

“Emily wants a knight to ravish her,” Cat supplies. Emily reddens further.

“Very few knights around here, though,” Antoine adds, casting a sidelong look at the armour propped up in the corner. Emily is now essentially a tomato.

“But no one is ravishing anyone because it’s _Portia_.” Sonia folds her arms and settles into a full pout. Django pats her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m sure between the four of you, you can find a way to work something out.”

He is not, Cat notices, looking at Emily. Almost very particularly.

Well, isn’t this an interesting night?

“What would you do if you wanted to ravish someone but they were being kind of an arse?”

Sonia immediately perks up. “Who? Who?”

“It’s hypothetical, babe.”

She deflates again. “I’d say tell them ‘screw them’, but honestly, in this economy, probably just, you know, screw them.”

“Semi-helpful as always, Sonia.”

“I semi-try my best.”

Django taps his chin ponderously. “Life’s definitely too short to waste time on those who don’t respect you. Even if ravishings are currently – apparently – few and far between.”

“Is ‘talk to them about it’ too boring a response?” Emily offers, her face slightly returning to normal now the topic has moved on.

“You sound just like Arlo.”

“How is this a hypothetical thing if you’re asking Arlo as well, huh?” Sonia demands. “First you’re canoodling, then he’s your love guru. And I can’t even get a date with Albert!” She throws down the cloth she was using to wipe the bar and strides off.

“She’s coming back,” Antoine assures Django.

“Oh, I know. Neither of you can resist a good dramatic exist.”

Antoine nods. “It’s true, it’s really true.” He sips his drink again.

*

If it’s worth the effort, put the effort it.

Cat’s not entirely sure it is, but it’s certainly worth another letter. She writes a few different drafts, all of which end up discarded, before she ends up on her final version.

The temptation to banter back, to insult X. and stoop to his level, is still there. But that isn’t what she wants. It’s not what she’s looking for. If she just wanted to feel pissed off, she’d go ask Higgins his favourite colour or something.

She reads the letter over again. She thinks it’s okay.

She’ll put it in the tree tomorrow. Then, she’ll just have to wait and see.

_*_

_Dearest X.,_

_It’s interesting that you speak of the concept of pleasure as ‘sufficient’, ‘insufficient’. Pleasure is not a necessary part of life – I can assure you in no uncertain terms I am perfectly capable of meeting my every need_ sufficiently _. But when it comes to the realm of delights, why should I limit myself? I enjoy myself alone, running my fingers over my body, dipping into my cunt as I bring myself to my peak in the quiet dark of my bed. I enjoy the sweet burst of pain as I twist my own nipples, dig my nails into my breast. But there is so much more to be gained, in my opinion, from a willing partner._

_And yet, in your letters, you seem preoccupied with such a sense of_ battle _. Everything is so couched in your pride, painting your fantasies of pleasuring me as a bone thrown to a hungry dog. Could it not simply be that we enjoyed one another?_

_I’m tired, X. I enjoy my life but more than enough of it is spent in conflict of some kind as it is. I put my plea into the_ Times _because I wanted pleasure, not a fight. I am more than happy to engage with you in a fantasy of control – of push and pull, of submission and dominance, and yes, even of hate and love. But part of me feels that in your letters you are trying to push me away as much as pull me close. What is it that drives you when you’re writing to me?_

_You can challenge me without insulting me. We can fight without drawing blood. I can long to feel your cock inside me without it being a weakness._

_Something to think about._

_LY._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone hates Higgins, I will die on this hill.
> 
> Also, Sonia is thirsty on everyone's behalf. She just wants SOMEONE to be getting some.
> 
> Initially I was going to write this as a very combative, love-hate-lust Builder/Higgins fic, but as I was writing it morphed pretty quickly into "why don't we grow into being better people through horniness and friends meddling", so, uh, enjoy that I guess.


	3. A Case of Tired Affection, A Race of Our Design

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (you’re an animal and you can’t stop the habits that form  
> and I told you they run when you call  
> and if you had to crawl on back they’d ask nothing at all)
> 
> Portia's entire construction industry, knowingly or unknowingly, discusses every other member of Portia's construction industry.

“Petra says that making the light pulse will be the hard part,” Cat says, settling back onto her arms as the sun filters down to her through the leaves above. “I still think she’ll have an answer for me tomorrow.”

“Most likely,” Mint says, drowsily. His sleep mask is neatly in place, although the pillow she’d made him is absent. _Less easy to carry around everywhere,_ he’d said. _I save it for my best naps_.

Cat yawns. “What’s after the lighthouse?”

“Crane.”

“Big crane?”

“Very big crane.”

Cat smiles up into the sunlight, eyes closed. Good. She has a much bigger assembly station than Higgins.

Gradually, she feels herself start to relax. Joining Mint for his outdoor naps hadn’t appealed to her at first, but the more they get to know each other, the more she finds herself admiring his all-on-or-all-off attitude. Mint works hard – much harder than almost anyone else in town – but he rests hard, too. It’s only on very rare occasions she finds him frayed and flagging.

So, outdoor naps. On occasion, at least.

“Hey,” Mint says, after some time. “You’re friends with Gust, right?”

Cat ponders this. “I don’t think he really uses that word for anyone but Albert. But we’re...close-ish, I guess. How come?”

“I kinda think he hates me.” A pause. “Do you think he hates me?”

“I mean, that could just be Gust-vibes.”

“Mr. Gale has been kind to me all this time...but lately, I've been getting the impression that Gust doesn't take well to that.”

Cat sits up a little, looking over at Mint. “You think he’s, like, what, jealous his dad likes you?”

“It's like...you know how Higgins got on you for being close to Mr. Presley? Like that.”

She stares at him, a little baffled. “I’m not close with Presley. Am I close with Presley? Mint, is that why Higgins has it out for me – because Presley was nice to me one time?”

Mint slides his mask up a little and looks back at her. “I mean...I always figured. He’s a little like Gust, kind of prickly, and you always seem on much better terms with everyone at the Commerce Guild than he is.”

“Yeah, but because he’s a jackass.”

“Not to everyone. He’s pretty fine with me.”

Cat drops back down onto her back with a huff. “Great, someone else singing Higgins’ praises,” she mutters, more to herself than Mint.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. Go back to the Gust thing.”

“Well...I want him to like me. Or for us to at least get on. I've asked Mr. Gale about it before, but he wants me to get to know Gust myself. But outside of work, Gust really doesn't talk with me.” Mint pauses, looking up at the sky sadly. “I'm just not good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“People.”

There’s a long pause between them. They’re both looking up at the sunlight dappling through the branches, at the clouds drifting by above, wondering about people that don’t like them. Cat doesn’t really know what it’s like not to be good with people. She just sort of...always has been. It’s easy, for her, learning the rhythms of the people around her, what they like, what they don’t. And then it’s easy to match it, find where she and they can fit together, how they can build a friendship. People just make sense to Cat, and she wonders what it must be like to be Mint, or Gust, who are wonderful but seem to spend so much time sure they’re going to say or do the wrong thing.

Mint covers it with a pleasant smile and never getting too close to people, and Gust wraps himself in prickles so that saying the wrong thing on purpose stops him from looking the fool by saying it by accident.

And then there’s Higgins, of course -

Although, is Higgins bad with people? He’s an arse whenever she’s around, sure, but both Ginger and Mint now have said that he’s not that bad. What is it about her?What is it about _him_? It’s not like she doesn’t play up to it – snap back, smirk and sass, gloat too much when she gets the choiciest commission. But that started with him.

Right?

“I’ll help you with Gust,” she says. “I don’t really know how. I could...talk to him?”

Mint shakes his head. “No, I want it to come from me. Do you maybe know what sort of things he likes?”

“Albert,” Cat says, before she can stop herself, and then hastily adds, “will know. I can ask him.”

“Would you?”

“Yeah. Sure. Though I’m pretty sure it’s basically pretty buildings, his pig, and his sister.” She pauses for a while. “Do you know what...Higgins likes?”

Mint looks sidelong at her. “Thinking of burying the hatchet?”

“I don’t think either of us even remembers where the hatchet is.”

Mint yawns, echoes of an interrupted nap clouding his eyes. “Maybe a nice hatchet, then.”

Long after Mint has dozed off, Cat finds herself looking at the sky, thinking of another slightly irascible man in her life. Unlike Higgins, X. has seemed interested in her companionship – limited to paper as it is – but she’d meant what she’d said in her letter about not wanting more conflict. And she hadn’t heard back from him since.

It had been a good couple of days longer than usual. Maybe she should check the tree again…?

 _No_ , she tells herself. _You’re here to relax. He’ll write back or he won’t, and you can check tomorrow when you go to restock your coriander stash._ _You’ve said your piece._

_Let it go. For now._

*

Albert leans back on the bench, passing the take-out container of spicy and sour potato back to Cat. She takes it and starts to dig in.

“Saw you napping with Mint earlier. Looked _adorable_.” He grins at her.

Cat swallows her piece of potato and grins back. “It’s so relaxing, Albert. I won’t let you knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“What, just…sleeping in the dirt in the middle of the day? I’m good, but thanks.”

She spears another piece of potato and pops it in her mouth before passing the box back to Albert. “He wants me to ask you what Gust likes.”

Albert frowns as he takes the box. “What Gust likes?”

Cat makes sure to keep her face completely straight as she answers. “Yeah. He’s thinking about asking him out and wants to get him a gift.”

She is rewarded with a rush of colour blooming in Albert’s cheeks. “Ask – asking him out? Mint? Gust?”

Cat nods, reaching back for the food even though Albert hasn’t taken a bite yet. “Yeah. Said something about how working on the harbour, he feels like he’s gotten closer to him through his designs, and – oh, no, I can’t keep this up, it’s too cruel. Look at you.”

Albert snaps his jaw, which had been hanging a bit too slack, closed, and snatches the potatoes back. “Why is that funny? Why would you tell me that?”

She gives him a significant look. When Albert maintains his glare, she tips her head back and sighs. “Okay, I guess we’re still at that stage. Well, Mint doesn’t want to ask Gust out, he just wants him to...not hate him.”

She can feel Albert simmering down next to her. “Gust doesn’t hate Mint. He just sort of...feels like he’s stealing his family.”

“That’s nuts, though.”

Albert pops a piece of potato in his mouth. He doesn’t speak again until he’s finished. “It’s Gust, though. Remember when he thought you might fancy Ginger? Remember the _extremely strongly worded letter_?”

Cat mock-shudders. “How could I forget? I’ve had letters actively threatening me and I still think it’s the most sinister mail I’ve received.”

“And Mint is close to Mayor Gale. He has been for a while, even while Gust was away. He still feels guilty about how he was before he left for Atara.” Albert pokes at the food for a bit, and then grins. “Obviously my influence that turned him into the caring lad he is.”

Cat grins back. “Obviously,” she says, snatching the container.

“What I mean is, I think Gust looks at the years he can’t get back with his family, and sees that Mint got to spend those years being close to them. In a way.”

She sighs. “So like, just a really nice book about architecture probably isn’t going to cut it? Because I have one I was saving for the next time I pissed him off.”

“I dunno, it might.” Albert shrugs. “It’s Gust. He might love it. It might piss him off.”

Cat groans to the sky. “He is so impossible. Why do you even...” she trails off. Sitting up, she looks over at Albert a little bit more seriously. “Why _do_ you like him? Even Sonia’s noticed you’re not chasing skirts any more.”

The colour is back in Albert’s cheeks, but more subdued. He looks at the ground.

“I mean, I do get it,” Cat says, prompting him. “He’s obviously a looker. And you two are so close. But what...what changed?”

Albert sighs. “I don’t know,” he says, to the ground. “It was like one day, I looked round, and he was just _there_. Like everything I thought I liked in Ginger, it’s in him, but more. And every time I asked a girl out, I would just find myself thinking – Gust dresses better than Sonia. I bet Gust is even smarter than Phyllis. Gust is probably stronger than Sam.”

“Alright, that one’s bullshit, I’ve sparred with them both and I can straight up tell you he’s not.”

Albert looks up at her hopelessly. “I _know_. But I still _thought_ it. Because Gust is...” He waves his hand vaguely.

“Because he’s Gust,” she finishes for him. “Then why…?”

“Because it would change everything. He’s my best friend. He’s my business partner. What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he does, but it doesn’t work out? What if it _does_?”

Cat nudges him with her shoulder. “Lotta big questions. Lots to think about.”

“Easier to just avoid it altogether, you know?” He sighs again, and then glances over at her. “Look, don’t...say anything, okay? I haven’t exactly told anyone, and it’s not like anyone would really guess. I mean, he probably doesn’t even know I like guys after everything.”

“I won’t,” Cat assures him. “But you can talk to me, you know? We’re friends, too.”

He smiles. “I know. You know, I even answered that weird sexy ad in the _Times_ a while ago, thought it would give me something to focus on that wasn’t him but wasn’t sitting opposite someone at The Round Table wishing I wasn’t there.” He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Didn’t even get a letter back.”

Cat chews the inside of her cheek, ponders. “Yeah, about that. Do you...want to know why?” Albert looks at her, perplexed, uncomprehending. “Because I figured one of the letters was from you, and I didn’t want to do that to Gust.”

Albert stares at her blankly for a moment, and then tries to say several thinks at once. “You? One? Gust?”

She laughs and scoots closer to him, slinging an arm around his neck. “Okay. You trusted me, I’m gonna trust you. But you really, really, _really_ can’t say anything...”

_*_

Higgins much prefers when The Round Table is quiet. It’s rare enough, what with it being the only restaurant in town, and he’ll brave it on a busy night if he must, but he much prefers it like this – a few people dotted around, plenty of room between them and the next table. Mint is picking over the dishes in front of them, sectioning off his favourite bits.

He’s like a child, sometimes, Higgins thinks. Between the naps and this, it’s a wonder he tolerates him at all.

But he does. He likes Mint, really, because Mint is one thing at a time: all business, all rest. He can switch on a dime when he needs to, which Higgins appreciates since it means when they spend time together, they can switch between working and socialising without either of them finding it a grind.

“Why don’t you like Cat?”

That is, he _did_ like Mint.

“Why on earth are you asking that?”

Mint shrugs, still portioning the food. “I was hanging out with her today and I always though the reason you didn’t like her is because she was close with Mr. Presley. But she said she’s not really, so I figured it can’t be that. So I just sort of wondered why you didn’t like her. She’s cool. And she’s a Builder, so you have a lot in common.”

Higgins shakes his head in disgust. “I can’t believe you’d compare me to _her_.”

“But you _are_ both Builders.” Mint looks genuinely perplexed. Higgins sighs, halfway between annoyance and resignation.

“Look. I worked extremely hard to get where I am. I’ve given up a lot, and it’s worth it, because I’m fantastic at what I do. But then that wretched little interloper turns up, and just picks up being a Builder like she’s picking up an old-world magazine to flip through. Like you can just _do_ that.”

Mint still looks a bit lost, but with comprehension dawning. “But she...did just do that.”

Higgins can feel his fists clenching. “I know. Exactly. That’s the point. I worked and I scraped and I sacrificed and she just waltzes in to a fully functioning workshop and a stack of her father’s diagrams and of course because she’s _Cat_ everyone likes her and bends over backwards for her.” He grimaces. “Like it doesn’t matter how good your work is, because just anyone can do it. Because some alleycat from Barnarock can just swoop in and take -”

He breaks off, closes his eyes. Lets out a breath. When he opens them, Mint is watching him with a look of realisation on his face.

“You were here first. No, don’t look at me like that, I don’t mean it like some kind of...ownership thing.” Mint waves his hands, obviously looking for the words to make his point. “This was your stuff. The town where _you_ lived, _you_ worked. And that means something, because it’s part of you and you’re part of it. And then there’s someone new. And even if they’re working hard and trying to be nice to you -”

“She has not _ever_ been _nice_ to me,” Higgins interjects, but it’s clear Mint is on a roll now and possibly not talking about Cat any more.

“- even if they’re just doing their best and trying to fit into a new place, you don’t see that, because they try to hide it because they don’t always get people and want to seem like they’re not struggling -”

“Cat gets people _just fine,_ and she’s never _struggled_ -”

“- so it looks like they just swanned in and took over. Took over your life. Your family.”

Higgins frowns at him. “Well...some of that was relevant, but if you’re trying to get me to feel sympathy for her -”

“I know why Gust doesn’t like me!” Mint says, and is out the door, his oddly portioned food sitting on the table between them.

At least he gets his choice of what to eat tonight.

Later, in his bed, he looks up at the darkened ceiling, and thinks. LY’s letter still sits on his desk, unanswered.

Has he been taking his annoyance on Cat out on her? He thinks about how she described his attitude as a battle, as a fight. How they could challenge and rile each other without being so... _antagonistic_. Much of what Mint had said hadn’t applied to the twerp and her lucking into a happy life in Portia, but the letters are probably as new to LY as they are to him, and he hasn’t exactly been understanding of this. No, instead he demanded perfection, an instinctive understanding of his needs, just like he did of everyone around him.

Like he did of himself.

Pulling himself out of bed, he settles back down at his desk and looks over her letter again. It is crumpled from where he threw it away, smoothed back out from where he changed his mind. After a few minutes, he begins to write.

He will go out tonight to drop it off. Next time she checks the tree- if she still checks it – she will find his reply. If she’ll still have him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotta talking in this one because everyone is a disaster and everyone has Thoughts on how other people should handle their mess without checking their own >.>


	4. My Queen of Nothing At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (not a soul on the road, not a star in the sky  
> it's a desert in my heart but I know where to hide
> 
> oh, through the wilderness, how come even together there can be loneliness?  
> oh, our heart's a mess, but it's our only defence to brave the wilderness)
> 
> Higgins finally replies to Cat. Mint surprises them with a joint project.

_LY,_

_I will admit that my delay in writing back is that I contemplated throwing your letter away and ceasing correspondence with you. I found your last message impertinent, condescending, and far too personal._

_Then, some time passed and I still had not thrown it away. I have begun to realise that perhaps there is some truth in it._

_I am not an...easy man. I never have been and I don’t intend to become one. It has been...a while since I had any kind of relationship that wasn’t at least partially built on conflict, or opposition. Or existed simply out of need. I have...friends, I suppose, but they are few and far between and I think sometimes that I don’t really understand them._

_But I have enjoyed writing to you. And it was unfair of me to mock you for an early physical response, when you – even with your last letter – have elicited that and more from me._

_Perhaps from now on, I’ll keep my ire where it belongs and focus more on achieving some sense of pleasure for us both._

_Please let me know if you’d be interested in continuing our...relationship?_

_Yours,_

_X._

_*_

Her heart thumps when her fingers land around the edges of the letter. He had written back, after all. She pulled it out quickly and tucked it in her satchel, away from the dew-damp coriander and pretty chunk of crystal she’d seen and decided she would fashion into a necklace for Alice.

It’s early yet. Was the letter here when she was with Mint yesterday? Should she have checked? She’s more nervous, she realises, than she has been with any of his letters yet. Maybe because this one is more likely to contain a rebuke, or a severing of their contact?

Cat makes herself finish scouring the island for herbs before heading back to her workshop. The Commerce Guild won’t open for another half an hour, so that’s probably enough time, right?

She starts the letter with a frown, but by the time she ends it, she is smiling, and feels more relaxed than she has in days.

This has – despite X.’s earlier attitude – become absurdly important to her. She isn’t sure why. Maybe it’s because it’s so different – because it represents something out of the norm, the first step she’s really made to assert herself as Cat instead of the new Builder since she got here. Maybe talking about the letters with Albert had made it more real somehow, made her realise the potential she might be missing out on if X. stopped writing. It was too late to write back to Flames, now, even if Albert had identified which letter was his and taken it out of the running.

She checks the clock. She has time, if she’s quick, to jot a quick note and ride back to the island before heading to the Guild. She’ll definitely arrive after Higgins, but so what, really, if he gets the best commission today? She’s sure she’ll be the one with the better news.

She arrives back at the Guild minutes after eight, but Higgins is nowhere in sight. Could he have been and gone, and foregone the chance to gloat? It doesn’t seem like him, but miracles do never cease.

Cat has selected her commission, stopped to chat with Antoine, and nearly reached Alice’s stall to ask her if she has a preferred design for the pendant, before she sees Higgins. It is nearly half past eight by this point – doubtless the latest he has ever headed to the Guild on a weekday – but he isn’t rushing.

In fact, the bastard is smiling.

She toys, briefly, with the idea of goading him, but then lets it slip away.

Why not let him have a good day? She certainly is.

*

_Dear X.,_

_Of course I would still like to write to you, you silly man. I wouldn’t have taken the time to point things out for you if I didn’t think you might be worth it. And like I say, thinks don’t always have to be light and pretty. But we should both know where we stand._

_I find myself satisfied knowing I’ve evoked a physical reaction in you with my letters. I look forward to hopefully causing more._

_Will you tell me more?_

_LY._

_*_

Higgins is well aware of Cat’s slack-jawed look as he strolls past her, but for the first time in an awfully long time, doesn’t feel compelled to stop and mock her for her gormlessness. LY’s letter – more of a note, really, but received so quickly – burns in his pocket, and it is habit more than will that steers him towards the Commerce Guild instead of his workshop to write a reply. He still has to work, after all, and he has the whole day to respond.

It thrills him that he had only put his letter in the tree late last night, yet this morning, there was already a response. He had thought it foolish, setting out so early – particularly when he had already had a late start and _knew_ this would cost him the day’s best commission – but he couldn’t help himself. And to his astonishment and wonder, a letter had been waiting.

And she wants him to tell her more.

Oh, he will.

_*_

_Lovely LY,_

_What should I start with? In truth, even leaving my first letter for you let my imagination spark. But even as I chided you for your arousal I was taking myself in hand imagining you reading my words and taking some pleasure from them. Even in your letter calling me out for my behaviour, your description of your moments of self-pleasure left my cock aching for your touch. Is pain something you enjoy to accompany your pleasure? Would it be too much to bite down on your breast – would you arch up for me, or move my mouth to yours instead?_

_I have read the line where you speak about imagining me inside you dozens of times by now. I have cum thinking of just that. I wonder what you sound like when you cum – if you’re loud, if you’re breathless. It’s different on your own, I suppose, but I wonder too when the last time you had an opportunity to enjoy yourself with another was?_

_Yours,_

_X._

_*_

This is one of her favourite letters so far, Cat decides. X. is more honest now, more _naked_ in a way, and she feels a connection thrumming between them in a way she hadn’t before. _This is it_ , she thinks. This is what she has been looking for.

She tucks the letter in with the others, slipping her reply into her bag. She checks herself briefly in the mirror by her door, tucking a few loose strands back into her ponytail. The air outside is crisp and fresh as the year winds closer to fall, the day’s heat cut through with a refreshing breeze. Cat heads to her mailbox, remembering how _this_ used to be the most interesting letter drop in her life.

Rewards from the Commerce Guild. McDonald’s taken his horse back. Ah – there – a letter from Albert on his official A&G stationery. She rips it open, stuffing the other letters into her bag, and shakes it open.

As expected, it’s the crane. She checks the time, wonders if she should head to the harbour first or the Guild. The Guild, she thinks. Albert’s an over-worker for sure, but even he might not have made it down to the front by now.

She beats Higgins by moments, shooting him a quick smile and sticking her tongue out as she darts through the doors ahead of him. He hangs back grumpily while she picks her Commission, and then hurries to take her place as soon as she has.

“Hey Antoine,” she says, approaching the main desk. “Busy day?”

Antoine pouts at her. “Too busy. At least the heat’s finally starting to die off. I’ve been getting so dried out.”

“Didn’t Emily’s new face mask work?”

He pulls a face. “I’ve already run through the whole pot.”

“Ah. Well, I’m heading down to the harbour next, I can see if she’s out and about and ask...”

Antoine puts a hand to his heart. “My Builder hero.”

She turns to leave, and almost walks into Higgins, who has come up far too close behind her (and far too quietly, honestly) and has an inscrutable look on his face.

“Why are you going to the harbour?”

Cat narrows her eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She steps past him towards the door, but he blocks her path.

“No, _I’m_ going to the harbour. Why would _you_ be going to the harbour?”

“For the disco ambience. Can I get past, please?”

He doesn’t block her this time, but he does follow behind her, and he can feel him watching her with suspicion. She heads straight for the Dee Dee stop, and of course, he stops with her.

“Fine!” she says, after he has been glaring at her for a full minute. “Albert sent a letter about the upgrade project, alright?”

“For the crane?”

Cat blinks. “Yeah – how did you…?” Higgins pulls a letter from his pocket – almost identical to the one she received. She skims it – although he doesn’t let her take it from his hand – and scowls. “They’re giving it to both of us?”

Higgins whips the letter away. “I doubt it. More likely a tender. Finally an opportunity to prove your sycophantic toadying can’t get you everywhere.”

Thankfully, the Dee Dee is coming into view. But Cat feels her scowl deepen. “I get commissions because I’m a good builder, Higgins.”

“Oh? And so why didn’t the navigation light go to the Guild? Or the lift for the Western Plateau? Or the South Block bus? Or -”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Cat darts past him, into the Dee Dee. Any faint hope she had of him getting the next one is dashed as he climbs in after her, pressed closer against her than she would like as the vehicle rickets into motion. “You think I get preferential treatment.”

“You do get preferential treatment.” Higgins folds his arms and regards her with disdain. “At first, the bigger projects went out to the Guild. Now, people just come to you directly. Albert, the Mayor – everyone. I know you’re a reasonable Builder. I’m not foolish. But I work as hard as you – harder – and I’ve been a part of this town far longer. And I’m not even considered. That doesn’t seem like preferential treatment to you?”

Cat fold her arms in turn, mirroring his defensive position. “Maybe people just want to work with someone who isn’t an insufferable arsehole - about everything, constantly.”

He scowls. “If you’d ever bothered to take a moment to ask around, once I take a job, I’m a consummate professional. The fact that I’m not willing to work for pumpkin pies and happy vibes does not make me less of a Builder. Just because you’re willing to devalue your work to get people doesn’t mean I should have to, but it’s shifted the entire process when it comes to larger commissions.”

“So _ask_. Say something. Or heavens forbid, make some friends.”

Higgins shakes his head in exasperation. “I have friends. Another thing you’ve never cared to notice because you think the town revolves around you.”

Cat resists the urge to shove him out of the Dee Dee. “I don’t, and you’d only think that if you never cared to notice a thing about me. The reason people come to me is because they know I’m willing to work harder, go further -”

“- Because having no sense of professional pride and not being able to say no is a _virtue_?”

“Oh, because shitting all over people who need a hand to get things off the ground is!”

“It’s a handout! Of course it’s very sad when people don’t have the resources they need, but Mei wasn’t starving without a printing press, she wasn’t _suffering_ -”

“Is this about the printing press? That was so long ago! I can’t believe you -”

“We’re here,” the Dee Dee driver interrupts, a note of annoyance in his tone. “Please exit the vehicle.”

Cat and Higgins exchange a final glare, and then climb out on opposite sides, the sea wind washing over them. The Dee Dee trundles away.

“Hey! There you two are!” Albert is calling them over, waving from near the warehouse. Mint stands beside him. “Lemme guess, you stopped at the Commerce Guild first?”

Heading towards him, Cat forces her face into a smile. No sense in taking this out on Albert. “You know me and Higs. Eight o’ clock is commissions o’clock.”

Albert grins. “That it is. Thanks for coming straight down after, really appreciate it.”

Cat feels herself start to relax a little now that she’s among friends. Whatever this business with the two letters is, she’s sure it will work out. Albert and Mint do know what they’re doing, after all. “You wanted to see us both?”

“Yep. I think we’re gonna need two Builders on this project. It was Mint’s suggestion at first -”

Mint steps forward as Albert gestures to him. “The crane is a pretty ambitious project. Cat, I know with the upgrades you’ve had done recently, your Assembly Station is best set up for the construction. And Higgins, I remember working with you on a similar project in Vega 5 a couple of years ago. I think with the two of you working together, it will cut down on the time the project takes and massively boost the quality of the outputs.”

Cat worries at her lip. On paper, it makes sense. She’s simply better equipped for a project of this scale, but lacks the experience. Higgins has the experience. It’s just that it’s _Higgins_. “You’ve really thought about this, huh?”

Mint nods, resolute. “I think the two of you together are the best bet for completing the harbour project ahead of schedule and on-cost. Are you in?”

She ponders for a moment, then nods. Dislike aside, Higgins is an impressive Builder, and she may be able to pick up some tips and tricks. “I’m in.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Fucking of course he isn’t.

Higgins has his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed. “You know perfectly well, Mint, in Vega 5 we were working with a much more limited space that Cat has available. This crane might be bigger, but I think my workshop is more than equipped -”

“It’s both of you or neither of you, Higgins,” Mint interrupts. “The incident with the warehouse set us way behind schedule. If you guys can’t take the project – together – we’ll move on to the out of town Builders. I know Sweet has more land than she knows what to do with."

Higgins glares at Mint, something like betrayal lingering behind his eyes. After a moment, he growls. “Fine. The both of us. I’m in.”

Albert claps his hands. “Fantastic! I’d say head up to the Research Centre to chat to Petra, but if what Mint tells me about your work in Vega 5 is true, Higgins, I think we can skip that step.”

Higgins’ sour expression flickers as a slip of pride sneaks through. “We can. I’m ready to get started today, if she is.”

_She’s the cat’s mother_ , Cat thinks peevishly, but nods. “I have a few errands this morning, but they shouldn’t take long. I can meet you at by workshop around eleven?”

“That will have to do,” Higgins says, with an air of long-suffering, and turns to leave without so much as a goodbye.

Once he is out of earshot, Cat turns back to Mint and Albert. “So, which one of you am I ending my friendship with? Or have I been stabbed in the back twice today?”

Albert has the good grace to look embarrassed, but Mint is clearly having none of it. “It’s what the project needs, Cat. Besides, I think the two of you will work well together. Sometimes it’s just about understanding the other person’s perspective, you know?”

Cat eyes him, half suspicious. “Are you trying to trick me and Higgins into getting along?”

He shrugs. “Hey, I just need a crane built.” Turning away, he heads back towards the temporary office set up outside the warehouse. Cat lets out a sigh as he leaves, already tired just thinking about the rest of the day.

“It will work better this way, mate,” Albert says, sounding a little apologetic.

Cat grimaces. “I know, that’s the worst bit. It makes a lot of sense. I just...don’t wanna.”

Albert laughs. “Yeah, Higgins can be a tricky one. I think he’s only really started to tolerate me in the last couple of years. Completely hated me when I first got here.”

“He did?” she asks, surprised. “But you two are so...civil.”

“I think it just takes time with that one.”

“I dunno. He seems _pretty_ determined to hate me.”

“Aww,” Albert says, settling a fond arm round her shoulders. “He won’t be able to keep it up. Who can hate you, anyway?”

Cat nudges him in the ribs. “I think that’s his problem. Anyway, I’d better get going. I’m suddenly on a time limit for the stuff I’ve got to do this morning.”

Albert’s eyes sparkle as she pulls away. “Any jobs on Amber Island this morning, hm?”

She chooses to ignore his knowing tone. “Yes, I need to restock my crystal supplies, actually.”

“I’m absolutely sure that’s all you’re headed over there for.”

“Don’t make me murder you in the night, Albert. I’d miss our dinners, and Gust would be devastated.” Taking advantage of his sudden blush and stuttering protests, Cat turns and hails the approaching Dee Dee. “Bye bye, lover boy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mint says be friends or no commissions. 
> 
> This fic is now fully written! It took a different direction than I first expected, but I'm overall reasonably happy with how it came out. I hope you enjoy the rest!


	5. Little Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (waking up too early in the city feeling disconnected  
> the underground and my understanding have delays on the line  
> the weather and the way we worked out weren't quite as expected  
> I've been melting in the summer heat going out of my mind
> 
> so far from okay, tongue-tied and afraid  
> the big things stay the same until we make  
> little changes)
> 
> Working together makes Higgins and Cat look at each other in a new light. Arguing won't build that crane!

Higgins is waiting by the gate to her property by the time she gets home – ten minutes _before_ eleven, she would like to note. She’d been hoping to finish a bit earlier so she could have some time to compose herself before he arrived – but, well, the best laid plans and all that.

“Finally,” he says, as she approaches, tapping his foot impatiently.

“You’re early, and you know it,” she tells him, unlocking her gate and ushering him through. She leads him through the mess of machines sprawling across her yard, towards the Assembly Station in the back corner. By the time they arrive there, Higgins expression has turned from one of impatience to horror.

“How do you work like this?” he asks her, aghast. “How do you _live_ like this?”

Cat turns to him, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

He gestures around him. “This! Your yard! It’s...it’s chaos! There’s absolutely no order to anything! Your furnaces are in four different locations! I think I saw a storage box _inside_ your grinder!”

She looks at where he’s pointing. Admittedly, her yard could use a bit more order, but it rankles having him point it out. “Well, we don’t all have the time to fuss and fret over things looking pretty. I’ve had to expand pretty quickly – you know, because of all the commissions I’ve been getting. Stuff goes where there’s space.”

“This can’t be efficient. You can’t honestly think it’s the best way to work.” Higgins sounds almost wounded by the fact that she would keep her machines in this state.

“Well, it’s how I work. And it’s working fine. Do you want to get started, or what?”

It isn’t working fine, she has to admit later, when she has spent a full half hour looking for an extra stack of carbon steel bars she knows she has here somewhere. Higgins spends the whole time staring at her in a mix of horror and pity. It pisses her off almost as much as it embarrasses her.

“Okay,” she says when she returns, bars in hand. “I’ll never admit this in front of anyone else, but you may be onto something. This…might not be the most effective layout.”

Higgins snorts, though she notices he looks pretty relieved. “She learns!”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess things just got away from me.” She pauses, and then voices something that’s been nagging at her all morning, since their conversation in the Dee Dee. “I guess I didn’t want to say no to people. And it’s meant I had to step up my game quickly, which was great, but has also been...hard.” She sees his lip start to curl at the idea she’s had anything to struggle about, and pushes on quickly. “And maybe it wasn’t always the best choice, picking me for bigger commissions. Sure, I’ve been able to upgrade so far, but you’re right. It’s left this place kind of a bomb site. And if you’re sat there with capacity, and I’m here juggling more work than my ‘shop can handle, it doesn’t…seem...great.”

The last words are particularly hard to grind out. But it has been on her mind – even before this morning. Sure, Higgins is a jackass, but he’s skilled and was clearly the first choice for big projects before she got here. Maybe it _is_ the fact that she’s friends with everyone that gets her the better jobs. And while she still thinks Higgins would do well to try smiling at folks once in a while, his livelihood shouldn’t be at risk just because she and Albert became immediate besties for life.

Higgins is staring at her, mouth agape. “You just said I was _right_.”

Cat crosses her arms, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. “Yeah. But I’ll never admit it. And it’ll never happen again. So, show me that method you were talking about to shape the bars into frames more easily.”

She wouldn’t describe the rest of the afternoon as ‘pleasant’. Higgins still takes every opportunity to criticise her ‘haphazard and frankly dangerous approach’, and she takes more pleasure than she should when the larger of her chickens starts trying to hassle him into feeding her. But the work runs smoothly, and there’s something about working with him that is igniting something within her. He is different here, in his element – sure-handed and direct, confident without his usual smarm. He know his way around a workshop, that much is clear – even one as chaotic as hers. She rises to meet each one of his challenges, and as the day wears on, she can’t help but feel he is starting to see her – begrudgingly – with some level of respect. When it comes to her work, at least.

And working with someone else – someone who just gets the way things fit together, can see the shape of the finished product coming together from disparate bits and pieces – is invigorating. The work goes quicker than she could have ever imagined. Higgins still refuses to let her in on some of his ‘personal proprietary methods’, but by the time she can hear people beginning to make their way over to The Round Table, they have covered more ground than she would have thought possible. Eventually, they reach a natural stopping point, and step back to survey their work.

“This is amazing,” she says. “We’ve done so much.” Higgins is quiet beside her. When she turns to look at him, she sees that he has an odd expression on his face, and his cheeks are red. “What?”

He shifts uncomfortably. Then, “It’s been a long time since I’ve worked with someone else. And even then, it wasn’t another Builder. I’ve never...collaborated like this. It’s...productive.”

Cat laughs. “Hell yeah, it’s productive. We’re gonna have this thing done in half the time, maybe less. And thanks to your diagrams, we’re only going to have to look at some adaptions for the lifting mechanism instead of asking the Research Centre to develop something wholesale. If only you weren’t such an arsehole, we could have done this sort of thing sooner.”

Higgins turns to her, ready to retort, when he catches her grin. She sees him decide against snapping at her, and, after a few moments of very obvious internal wrestling, offer her a thin smile. “Perhaps you’re a little more skilled than I thought. Maybe not all the commissions you get are down to your likeability.”

Cat puts her hands under chin and flutters her eyelashes. “Aw, Higs. You think I’m likeable.”

He rolls his eyes. “I think I’m going home now.”

She laughs. “Yeah, that tracks. Listen, I’m going to head out to the Desert Ruins tomorrow. I don’t know what your reserves of aluminium are, but I definitely need to restock. Plus, I might turn up an engine or two, save us having to trade for them.”

Higgins pauses, and Cat can see some conflicting feelings crossing his face. After a moment, he says, “I could...join you. If the two of us are mining, we could be finished quicker and make some time late in the day to work on the crane a bit more.”

Cat feels a jolt in her stomach at his words, and decides very quickly and firmly to set that aside to examine never. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

“I’ll have some commissions to finish in the morning, after visiting the Guild. I’ll meet you there the same time we started today, eleven?”

“Alright. I guess...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Higgins.”

He raises a hand is awkward farewell. “Goodbye, then. Cat.”

She watches as he winds his way out of her yard, closing the gate behind him, before heading towards her house. She nearly trips over one of her cutters – which could have been a very bad time – and resolves to do something about organising her machines some time soon. That’s twice today Higgins has been right.

And oddly, the thought doesn’t leave her feeling as bitter as it usually might.

*

_My dear X.,_

_Your forthrightness pleases me almost as much as the thought of you taking your hard cock in hand and stroking yourself to the idea of me in your mind. Last night, I read your letter several times before bed, and let myself imagine you lying in a similar bed somewhere in this town, thinking of me, as I got myself off. I don’t know how much pain I’d really like with my pleasure – maybe not too much more than the odd sting of surprise – but I’ll confess I dug my nails harder than usual into my breast, imagining it was you, imagining we were learning more about what I like together._

_You’re right that it is different, making noise, when you are on your own rather than with someone else. I tried to let myself go, imagine myself in your presence, and I can say that my response was mainly gasping – though perhaps, with a little whine as I came._

_The last time I was with someone...it’s been a good few months now. While one night stands give me the anonymity I desire, they don’t leave you with a lot of time to get to know your partner or for them to get to know you. That’s why I reached out in the_ Times _, really – the opportunity to build up an erotic rapport without the accompanying expectations of immediately entering a romantic relationship. I was in Vega 5, though, and had had a thoroughly annoying day. My partner was extremely easy on the eyes but a little too focused on his own enjoyment. A decent experience, none the less, but not someone I’m crying my eyes out about not seeing again._

_What about you?_

_LY._

_*_

“I don’t know, man. It was weird. It was, like, _nice_ , almost.”

“It can be satisfying, working with a partner,” Albert agrees, moving aside some papers on his desk for Cat to perch. This morning’s commission was an easy one, and Cat wants to save her energy for her trip to the ruins, so she’s decided to stop by A&G to update them about the crane. G is notably absent, but A is, as always, bustling busily around the office.

“Yeah. I guess it’s not something I’ve ever experienced before. And Higgins was...well, he was Higgins, but he was like, soft Higgins.”

“‘Soft Higgins’?” Albert raises his eyebrows. Cat sticks her tongue out at him.

“Ugh, you’re the worst. But yeah, it’s not like he wasn’t a jerk, still, it just felt like there wasn’t the venom behind it. Like being mean was a reflex but his heart wasn’t in it. I guess he’s just different when he’s working.” She cocks her head to the side, recalling her conversation with Mint a while ago. “I guess that’s what Mint’s seen in him. Though who knows why Ginger likes him.”

“Ginger is a perfect saint who put up with Gust when he was, as I understand it, at his worst. I think she could see the best in anyone.”

“Yeah, she’s basically an angel.” Cat looks across to where Albert is absent-mindedly reorganising his stationery pot. “Funny, though, how Gust seems to have become a much better person after going to Atara. And, you know, meeting you.”

Albert becomes very focused on the pen he’s holding. He is quiet for a few moments, and when he speaks, it is in a soft, uncertain voice. “I think I love him, Cat.”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling gently. “I kind of think you do, too.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do about that?”

“I don’t know, bud. What do you want to do about it?”

He looks up at her and scratches his ear. “I know what I _want_ , obviously. But like I said before, there’s so much to consider. There’s so much that could go wrong.”

She prods his elbow. “There’s so much that could go right, though.”

Albert turns the pen over in his hands. “I don’t know if that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Because I’d be taking it for the both of us, and I don’t...I don’t know what he’d want. Even if he felt the same way.”

Cat takes the pen from his hands. “He looks at you a lot, you know. When you’re not looking. And he specifically asked me not to have sex with you.”

“He did?!” Albert looks at her in shock.

“Sort of. It’s why I decided not to reply to your letter. I think he definitely feels...something for you, but that man is an inscrutable glamorous mess.”

Albert smiles, and it’s the sort of smile that speaks to something lighting up inside him. The boy definitely has it bad. “He is a mess,” he says, very fondly. Then, he glances at Cat. “What about _your_ letter-writing friend?”

Cat sighs and pretends to fan herself with her hand. “Horny and delightful. And much less obnoxious than he started off. I think _I’m_ in love.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. But I’m very happy with how things are progressing.”

He leans back in his chair. “You have any thoughts about who it might be?”

She shakes her head. “I try not to. There’s a few people I feel pretty sure it isn’t – you, obviously, because that would be a heck of a long con, Gust, Django.”

“Django?”

“I think he has a thing for Emily.”

Albert leans forward with interest. “ _Really_ now?”

Cat shrugs. “It’s just a hunch. The way they act to each other when we’re at The Round Table, particularly on an evening. Plus, she hangs out there a lot. I know she’s friends with Sonia but it’s just a vibe I get, you know? And he’s softer to her, more...knightly and gentlemanly.”

He rubs his chin. “That would be an interesting pair.”

“Extremely agreed. But yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not you, Gust, or Django. And he assured me he wasn’t in a relationship, so it’s definitely not Mars. Mostly everyone else could be fair game.”

“Who do you _want_ it to be, though?” Albert asks, eyes glinting mischievously.

Cat eyes the clock. Probably time to get a move on. “Isaac, obviously,” she says, sliding off the desk. “Think of all those years of experience.”

Albert chucks a balled-up piece of paper at her. “You’ll be laughing out of the other side of your face if it is, you know.”

“The dirty letter is the ladder of human progress, young man,” she quips, and dodges another ball of paper. “See you later, Albert!”

“Enjoy your date with Higgins. Ooh, maybe he’s the one -”

“Not listening to you any more!”

*

The ruins are pleasantly cool. Cat and Higgins have been here a couple of hours now, and have already amassed a satisfying haul of ore. Both of their scanners have detected some engine-shaped relics towards the northern wall, so they have reached the mutual decision to take a break, check them out, and then head back to Cat’s workshop to push forward on progress with the crane.

Cat hands Higgins a bag of dried apple slices, which he takes without comment. While she thinks a ‘thank you’ might be nice, the lack of snark is perhaps even nicer. They’ve been companionably silent for most of their mining so far, focused on their work. Cat munches on her own apple slices, looking out at the ruined landscape before them.

“It’s wild, how much is down here.”

Higgins nods. “Our society is built on so much we barely understand. It’s strange that so much of what came before is lost.”

“I know. And I hear Minister Lee, some of it is definitely dangerous, but I kinda hate not knowing how much progress has been lost, how much we’re too afraid to reclaim.”

Higgins is silent for a moment as he eats. “Minister Lee has never liked me,” he says, after he has finished.

“But you’re so charming.”

“You really aren’t as funny as you think you are.”

“I’m actually much funnier.”

Higgins rolls his eyes, but doesn’t sneer. Baby steps, she thinks, almost alarmed at how quickly things have become civil between them. Has there always been the possibility for this? Have they been fighting all this time just...because? It’s natural that there’ll be some rivalry between them – they’re competitors and they always will be – but the change in tone of their banter of the last couple of days has made her think. He still pushes her buttons – quite obviously on purpose – but like she said to Albert, it’s like there’s no malice behind it now.

They lapse into silence for a while, looking out over the ruins. After a while, Cat speaks.

“I’m thinking of reorganising my yard.”

“Literally every piece of machinery in there will thank you.”

She glances across at him. “I was wondering if you might have...like...any suggestions for a good set up?”

He catches her glance and smirks. “Naturally, you’d want advice from the superior Builder.”

“You’re definitely more anal than I am,” Cat says agreeably. “You probably already have a layout sketched at home for me.”

“I don’t,” Higgins says, steadfastly ignoring her humour as usual. “But I could. If you say ‘please’.”

An idea comes to her, and Cat grins wickedly. She leans her head into his shoulder, batting her eyelashes up at him. “Pleeeease help me fix my yard up, Higs? I’m lost without your obsessive layout plans and eye for workshop design.”

He pushes her away, but not unkindly. To her pleasure, Cat notes that there is a flush in his cheeks, even in the cool underground air, and he is not meeting her gaze. _Not quite so untouchable, hmm, Higs? Maybe you do find me likeable, after all._

He sighs dramatically. “I have a few ideas. You have a reasonable amount of space. But we finish the crane first – we’ll just have to make do with the disaster zone you call a work space.”

“Agreed.” Cat hops down from the ledge they’ve been seated on, hefting up her mini-drill. “You ready to go engine hunting?”

Higgins follows her down, picking up his own drill. “Lead the way, alleycat.”

The engines are pretty deep, and they keep having to pause in their work to navigate a safe route downwards. The tunnel they’re making is narrow, but neither of them wants to waste energy or time widening it when they have more work ahead of them today. Cat finds herself closer to Higgins than she would have been comfortable with before these last few days – outside of sparring, that is – as they clamber down into the depths of the ruin. He even catches her once when she slips, wrapping an unexpectedly strong hand around her forearm and tugging her to her feet with ease. After that, she can’t help but notice the ease with which he hefts his drill, the flex of what turns out to be considerable lean muscle beneath his dusty mining shirt. His arms are exposed – which she doesn’t think she’s ever seen before – and she disturbs herself by imaging if they could hold her – someone’s – weight – or how easily he’d be be able to hold himself above her – _someone_ -

Gosh, she hopes X. writes back soon. She’s been much more easily...agitated lately, but eyeing up Higgins in the middle of a ruins is a new one, even for her.

After a little more careful excavation and descent, they come upon a pair of almost pristine engines. Higgins makes a satisfied noise that brings an uncomfortable heat to Cat’s cheeks for a moment before internally shaking herself.

 _Cat, you horny motherfucker, you stop this right now,_ she chides herself. _And you check that tree as soon as you can._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Higgins' reaction to Cat's workshop and yard is specifically me calling myself our for my """organisation systems""".
> 
> I really enjoyed the ruins scene. I kind of wanted to write more of it. I kind of feel like their friendship moved a bit fast, but I think their hostility towards each other is honestly so shallow and if they ever sat down and had a conversation they'd be very same hat about it all.
> 
> Also, my tagline for this chapter was "Friendship? In this economy?". It's also basically the only one where the chapter title/quote has stayed the same the whole way through - Little Changes could probably be an altname for this fic altogether. So please enjoy this one!


	6. Don't Know What You Mean To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (you spend a lifetime looking for someone  
> and then they come and you're just so uneasy
> 
> and I don't know what you mean to me  
> but I'm starting to think its just a mystery)
> 
> Higgins comes to terms with his strange new feelings for his rival, and arrives at a startling conclusion.

_My LY,_

_The thought of you coming with my letter in mind had me hard before I had even finished reading your last. I’m lucky I didn’t make the hideous mistake of reading it anywhere other than the privacy of my home. When you wrote about gripping your breast and thinking of me…_

_I allowed myself to be more vocal that time, as well. Perhaps I’ll spare you a more graphic description of my groan as I imagined you whining into your pillow, imagining me. It’s likely not as enchanting as the noises I feel certain you would make._

_I think I will have to stop reading your letters anywhere other than my bed, otherwise I am going to start getting a Pavlovian hard-on whenever I look at my desk. Hardly conducive to my daily tasks if I can’t pick up a pen or read my mail without thinking of you. Did you know there’s a very light scent to your letters? Nothing I can really place, but something I am coming to think of as unmistakably you._

_In terms of physical companionship - it’s been a while for me, longer than it has for you. I suppose it’s something that’s simply slipped by the wayside. I have many more demands on my time and attention and as I’ve said, I’m not an easy man. Temporary companionship is not always easy to come by. And as we’re both aware, Portia is a small town and any news travels fast. I do not have enough friends that I can risk chasing them away in pursuit of a fling._

_I wonder, sometimes, if you are among those few. I doubt it, though._

_I wonder, too, if I can ask something of you. A favour I hope you will be willing to give. Tonight – whenever tonight is when you receive this letter – it would be...extremely satisfactory to me if, should the mood take you, you took me letter to bed with you and read the following while lost in your own pleasure:_

_I wish I could be there with you. I wish I could feel you shudder under my hands, wish I could feel the warmth of your skin and the heat of your sex. I was bring my lips to your ear and beg you, my dear, to sink down onto my fingers and pleasure yourself against me, telling me how best to stroke and tease you. I wish I could feel your wetness as you clench around me, and kiss your neck as you came. I wish I could breathe in that light scent of you and let it fill my mind as I brought you back up to a second crescendo._

_Write me soon._

_Yours,_

_X._

_*_

Higgins is pleased with the latest letter he has left for LY, but if he is honest with himself, a little nervous, too. He doesn’t think he has asked too much – not given their recent letters – but he really doesn’t want to risk what they have by being over-keen, or falling back into his old didactic ways.

He finds himself with LY on his mind more and more, lately. Certainly, her letters are arousing, and he feels sure they are both contentedly achieving what they had set out for in this correspondence. But lately, it feels like something has changed. When he pictures her, he does not just entertain himself with the thought of them lost in each other, a haze of lust and flesh, but rather also the softer moments – hands held by the harbour, a gentle head on his shoulder.

This is not something Higgins is used to thinking about. Even less is it something he is used to _wanting_. He has always been a ferociously independent man, which is why it rankled so much that Cat, when she first came, was able to swim up the ranks at least partially as a result of her relationships with other people in town. Certainly, she is a reasonable Builder – he has seen that first hand now – but for the first time, it made him feel as if the distance he has put between himself and most of the people in Portia is less of a badge of honour and more of a barrier to success. He shouldn’t have to compromise himself to succeed, he has always though, but lately he is wondering if letting people in, enjoying their company, is really such a compromise after all.

He wonders, uncomfortably, if some of his softer thoughts about LY are a result of all the time recently he has been spending with Cat. Certainly, they have been working for the vast majority of it, but there is an easiness about her that he isn’t used to her showing around him. He has known it to be there, of course – has seen enough of her with other people, exchanging gift and hugs, sharing food from the same box. Her touches always seem to come easily, but with respect for the person involved – a full body, almost wrestling hug for Sam, a gentle touch to the elbow for Gust. And for him…

The memory of her head on his shoulder in the ruins comes to him, and a flood of conflicting, and confusing, emotions bubble within him. It was exactly the sort of scene he’s found himself imagining with LY - casual but intentional touch, easy intimacy. It is _not_ something he wants to receive regularly from _Cat_ , of all people, but it has sparked something in him that he is trying desperately to ignore. Down in the tunnel, she had been so close – he remember catching her when she had lost her footing, and puling her up. For a moment she had been nearly flush against him, her breath against his neck, and he winders, if he had held there for a moment longer, if he would have been able to feel the beating of her heart against his.

He was also relatively certain he caught her looking appreciatively at him a few times, which is a whole other bundle of feelings he doesn’t particularly want to explore. Things between them seem to have changed so rapidly – although he wonders if things weren’t always leading to this, this almost-friendship, as he thinks back to the numerous times they’ve pushed against one another, each trying to assert their views as the correct ones. Every time, he realises, they’ve been challenging each other, laying out pieces of a greater argument, and lately it feels like between them they’re reaching the conclusion that they don’t have to be enemies, not really. Rivals, perhaps – he can’t deny the standard of his work has improved since he’s had her to battle against – but rivals can be...can be…

Friends.

He supposes.

And tries to ignore the dream he had the night before, after their day in the ruins, where LY’s faceless form had been beneath him until it suddenly shifted into _hers_ , smiling up at him softly and with something like wonder in her eyes.

He had woken up, cock hard and mind whirling, and it had taken him a long time to fall back to sleep.

_*_

Cat shifts – again – and winces as Gust sighs loudly. From behind him, Ginger giggles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Gust looks at her, and his expression says that he doesn’t think she is very sorry at all. “Just sit _still_. I’m nearly done with the basic sketch, and then you’re free to twitch around as much as you like.”

“Sorry,” she says again, though falls silent at a withering look from Gust. _Sorry_ , she thinks.

She holds her position for several more long minutes, until Gust is apparently satisfied with his work. He stands up, and dusts off his hands. “Alright. You can move now.”

Cat bounces up and heads towards Gust. “Can I see?”

“Yes? I mean, it’s just a sketch right now but -”

“Oh, Gust, it looks so good! Look at my nose, you got my nose so perfectly!”

Gust looks a little smug. “I do try. I’ll ask you to sit again for me when it comes time to start on the colours, but I’ve a bit of work to do before then. Hopefully, by then, you can learn to sit still.”

“I thought I did okay,” Cat pouts.

“You did,” Ginger assures her, coming up beside her and linking their arms. “Gust would just prefer anyone who models for him temporarily becomes a statue.”

Gust takes Ginger’s other arm. “Well, it would be easier.”

They begin to make their slow way up to town. Cat glances across at the tree in the centre of the island, but there’s no way to go and check it for letters now. She’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning. If it were Albert here, she might chance it, but then he’d probably want to read it and she doesn’t feel like she wants to share X.’s words like that.

“Will you join us for dinner tomorrow night, Cat?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, of course, I’m free. The both of you?” Then, a thought strikes her. “Is Albert coming?”

Gust shakes his head. Cat tries to read his expression, but his face is infuriatingly neutral. Inscrutable bastard. “Not this time. He’s been working late these last few days getting things ready at the harbour to fit the crane. I don’t think even he expected you and Higgins to be this far along already.”

Cat laughs. “We make a surprisingly efficient team. Who would have thought.”

Ginger nudges her gently. “I told you he wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he is,” Cat tells her. “He’s just also an exceptional Builder.”

Gust’s eyebrows raise. “‘Exceptional’? My my, what has been happening between you two?”

Cat is horrified to feel herself warm at Gust’s comment. “Okay, maybe Ginger was right. He isn’t super heinous. At least, not when he’s focused on a project. We haven’t exactly spent a bunch of social time together.”

“Maybe you should,” Ginger suggests, giving her a strange smile.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“I think he’ll be at The Round Table tomorrow night,” Ginger says idly. “Mint says he was hoping to meet him there. Perhaps they could join us.”

Cat stops in her tracks, narrowing her eyes at Ginger suspiciously. “Ginger. My dear friend. My trusted gal pal. Are you trying to _set me up with Higgins?_ ”

Ginger gives her that same, strange smile, and tugs her back into step gently. “Would I do that?”

“She absolutely would,” Gust interjects. “The number of women she’s tried to set me up on a date with -”

“Well, if you finally admit what you want, Gust, I wouldn’t have to try to press you this way,” she says, loftily. Cat glances at her. And what exactly does she mean by that, hmm? Maybe if Gust leaves them alone tomorrow night she may try to ask her friend some specific, Albert-focused questions about her brother.

Gust himself has clearly decided to ignore Ginger’s last comment. “It will be a perfectly pleasant evening, with no meddling matchmaking. Right, Ginger?”

“Of course,” Ginger says, with an air of innocence Cat finds it hard to doubt, even knowing that Ginger can be much more devious than she lets on. “A perfectly pleasant evening, with all my friends.”

She doesn’t quite like the emphasis Ginger puts on ‘all’. But she hasn’t been out in a little while, particularly since she’s been occupied with the crane project, and it will be nice to spend time with people who aren’t Higgins.

She ignores her complete lack of internal horror in reaction to the idea that Ginger might try to set the two of them up. It means absolutely nothing at all.

*

_My X.,_

_Confession: I did not wait until the evening. I picked up your letter late this afternoon and hurried home, and spent most of the rest of the day in bed, your letter clutched in my hands. Well, in one hand. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what the other was doing. Although I did lay your letter down from time to time, to grip my breast, run my fingers over my neck, through my hair, imagining it was you._

_And then, of course, returning to you words._

_I imagine your groan, your gasp. I imagine taking my slick fingers and wrapping them around you, hearing you moan in relief as I free you from your clothes and coat you in my wetness. I think of guiding you into me, feeling you above me, being wrapped in each other. I wonder how you would smell, how you would feel – if you would buck against me, sink in slow or take me fast. I wonder how I would feel around you._

_And now I sit, quite exhausted, writing a reply that I can take back to our tree before joining some friends for dinner, pretending I didn’t spend the last few hours fucking myself senseless to a letter I found in a tree._

_I am sorry I do not have much more to say today. As I say, you have exhausted me, and I am due out. But I didn’t want to wait to reply. On the odd chance that you pick this up tonight, you might find yourself in The Round Table...and know that I’m there, too, fresh from washing the scent of myself away after an afternoon in the company of your words._

_You might find that scent you spoke of in your last letter a little stronger on this one. It’s just a perfume I use, something I use rarely, but I keep it in the drawer with my writing stationery. It must have infused a little. But I’ve sprayed some on this letter, and I’m wearing some tonight._

_I’m not nearly ready for this beautiful anonymity to end. But the thought...the image of you catching the scent, coming closer to guessing, with me none the wiser…_

_It was too difficult to resist._

_Your LY._

_*_

“...it’s nice to see you, anyway. You’ve been even more hermit-y than usual lately.”

“Hm?” Higgins shifts his attention back to Mint, aware that he has zoned out again. “Yes, yes. I’ve been quite busy. The harbour crane has been taking up a lot of my time.”

Mint looks pleased at this. “The work seems to be coming along really well. You and Cat make a good team.” His expression turns a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry for setting you two up like that. But I had a feeling that if push came to shove, you’d really make something special together.”

Higgins waves his hand. As much as he hates to admit it, Mint is right. Neither of them would have willingly collaborated, but their progress as a team has been undeniable. “Perhaps you and Albert will put me back in the running for future projects again, instead of dropping them straight in her lap.”

Mint looks at him apologetically. Still, the bitterness doesn’t sit as heavily on his tongue so heavily tonight. Things with Cat have been almost pleasant, lately, and it was a delight to hear her come to understand what he’s been saying _this whole time_ about the unfairness in the way the bigger commissions had been distributed.

Besides, it’s hard to feel too preoccupied with what work he’s missed out on it the past. Since starting the crane project, a few other commissions have come his way, and of course, his correspondence with LY occupies a pleasing portion of the rest of his time.

In fact, he is having a hard time tearing his mind away from her, even tonight when he is here with Mint (who is paying for everything as an apology for dashing out on him before). He has not received a reply to his last letter, and his worries about his request of her surface again. But it hasn’t been too long, not really – he is just eager for her reply. He has no doubt his walk home will involve a detour to Amber Island.

“How are things with Gust, anyway?” His developing...relationship with LY has, to his surprise, encouraged him to pay more attention to those around him. The fact that she is someone in this town, someone he has probably spoken with…it reminds it that there are more to Portia’s inhabitants than what commissions they can post. And, as much as he is loathe to admit it, he is certain that at least one of his new commissions has come from Cat putting in a good word for him. Irritating, but perhaps this...friendliness thing has its benefits.

Mint smiles broadly. “Better. Much better. We’re still not exactly friends, but he’s invited me to join him and Albert for lunch tomorrow, and the other day, he even asked me how I was!”

Higgins eyes the light flush in Mint’s cheeks, and wonders if his feelings for the fancy-dressing architect are purely platonic. Gust is an attractive man – he’s drawn eyes ever since they were kids – but, like Higgins, Gust can be a difficult man to get close to.

Still, Mint managed it with him. Why not Gust, too?

The man in question is across the room, seated next to Ginger. Not for the first time, Higgins wonders if she’s the person behind the letters. The quiet, firm way she’d chastised him for his early behaviour reminds him of the years Gust was away in Atara, when Ginger had gently pressed her friendship on him, refusing to believe he could be as unlikeable as he’d tried to have her – and everyone – believe.

He isn’t certain, though. There is something vivacious and wicked about LY’s letters that doesn’t quite fit with Ginger. Impressions can be deceiving, though. His eyes slide across the table from her, onto Cat, who is apparently joining them for dinner tonight. He still does not think he was wrong about her, necessarily, but he’s willing to admit that there’s more there than he first believed.

Eventually, Mint starts yawning, and begins to make his excuses. Higgins rises with him, and finds himself unsurprised when their path takes them to Gust and Ginger’s table.

“Hey guys,” Mint greets them. Half-reluctant, Higgins steps up beside him.

Gust and Ginger offer them both polite hellos, and then, to his shock, so does Cat – with a big smile for them both. No jibes, no snipes: just a smile.

Have things really changed so much between them in a few short days?

“Mint, Higgins,” Gust says, nodding at them. “Would you care to join us for a few drinks? We don’t have to head off just yet.”

Higgins feels Mint perk up beside him. _Where’s that yawn gone?_ he thinks, but Mint has already slid into the booth next to Ginger. Leaving the only space the one that’s right next to Cat.

They might have reached a professional détente, but he isn’t quite sure he’s ready to start socialising with her just yet.

“I’d better head out. Early mornings and that.”

“Aw, Higgins, you should stay!” Mint says. “Even just for one drink. It’s not that late.”

“Yes, we haven’t had a chance to spend time together in a while.” Ginger smiles at him.

Then, a very strange thing happens. First Ginger, and then Mint, both dart their gazes across the table. Higgins switches his attention to Cat just in time to see something strange flicker across her face, and then she says, with apparently only a little reluctance, “Yeah, c’mon, sit down. It’s Saturday tomorrow, so no eight o’clock rush to the Guild.”

She even _scootches up_.

Later, he thinks that he possibly sat down more out of stunned surprise than an actual affirmative decision. Nevertheless, he finds himself sat there, a spiked punch in front of him, and a blank space where his thoughts should be.

His rival looks...different tonight, somehow. Like she has slept for a month of Sundays and woken up to find all her cares erased. She is laughing more freely, and some sneaking suspicion tells him it isn’t just from drink.

What could possibly have her in such a good mood? They took a break from working on the crane today while both their furnaces worked away on the aluminium they’d gathered from the ruins. A thought comes to him that he finds unexpectedly unpleasant: is she happier because she’s spent the day not in his company? Despite their recent camaraderie, does she still find him so...intolerant?

He takes a swig of his drink.

There’s a ruckus at the door, and the Civil Corps woman, Sam, burst through the door with Phyllis on one arm and Alice on the other. Both look amused, rather than appropriately horrified, at her behaviour, and to his chagrin are waved over by Cat to the table behind them. Moments later, Phyllis and Gust are deep in conversation, and Alice has pulled a chair up next to Mint and Ginger who are eagerly asking how her novel is going.

Sam flops down next to Phyllis, juddering the back of Higgins’ seat. He can feel his lip start to curl when he feels a poke to his ribs.

It’s Cat. “Relax,” she says, smiling. “Do one drink, then escape. It’s the path of least resistance.”

He sneers anyway. “You’re in an awfully good mood tonight.”

She laughs, leans back in her chair. “I am. I’m in really, really, really good mood, Higgins. It’s been a...really relaxing day.”

She does seem relaxed, like something in her that she’s been holding tense has suddenly unwound. He catches himself before his curiosity makes him do something stupid like ask why.

Sam doesn’t feel the same compunction. She is now digging her knees into the back of his seat, leaning over between them. “Ooooh, a really really _really_ good mood relaxing day? What _have_ you been up to, little kitten?”

Cat laughs again, and swats at her playfully. “Get your mind out of the gutter, pervert.” Though, there’s pink in her cheeks. Is she that easily embarrassed? Or (and he hates that his mind even goes there, and goes there so easily, too) is Sam right? “I just decided to completely sack work off today. Spend some time on myself. Not something I want to make a habit of, but you gotta top up that self-care tank now and again. We’ve been nose to the grindstone lately, huh, Higs?”

Sam nods sagely. “Can’t pour nowt out from an empty cup. Maybe you can impart some of that wisdom on the Captain.”

Cat rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because Arlo’s work fetish is going to disappear because I say ‘hey pal, have you thought about a day off?’”

“It might work,” Sam shrugs.

“Let’s try it, then.” Cat shifts in her seat, and suddenly she is facing him, her leg crossed under her and pressed against his thigh. “Hey, Higgins. Pal. You work too hard. Have you thought about a day off?”

Higgins stares at her incredulously. Why has he been dragged into this?

After a moment’s pause, Cat turns to Sam, looking satisfied. “See? No magic powers to cure workaholism.” She glances over at Higgins. “Though, in seriousness, I do recommend a day off when you can plan one in. Turns out, they fucking rock. I bet you spent all day today hard at it, am I right?”

He is saved having to answer something that avoid the fact that actually, most of his day has been spent thinking about whether an unknown woman will reply to his racy letter when Sam reaches over and scruffs Cat’s hair. “Look at you, learning to chill out. I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Sam, I hang out with you _constantly_.”

She shakes her head. “Only i _n between_ things. Only once it’s booked in. I’m absolutely loving this spontaneous relaxation look on you. Think it would definitely suit you, too, Higgins.”

And then she scruffs _his_ hair, too, because apparently Sam is an irreverent _demon_.

“I’m _quite_ happy with my current schedule and workload,” he tells her, peevishly, straightening his hair. “In fact, alleycat, if you’re going to be slacking off, I might see about picking up some _extra_ work around town. Especially since we’re nearly done with the crane.”

Cat pouts at him, which sends an alarming flicker through his gut. “You’re so ready to be done with our amazing teamwork? I’m hurt.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay, I’m not. But I still think you should take a break, Higgins. Burnout isn’t a cute look on anyone.”

“Amen,” Sam sighs, dropping her forehead against the top of Cat’s head. “I want a nap.”

“But instead, you’re gonna stay up late drinking with these two, aren’t you?”

“Not at all! Alice has to head home soon. I’m just going to drink with you and Phyllis.”

“Oh, I’m staying, am I?”

“I mean, it is your day off, and I am, like, your best friend.”

“Since when?”

“Since buy me a drink?”

Cat gives a fond, long-suffering sigh, and stands up. “’Scuse me, Higgins.” She slides past him – too close for comfort, except, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all – and heads for the bar.

“I love you!” Sam calls over to her, which is met by an answering “I know!” Higgins picks up his own drink. The sooner he finishes it, the sooner he can leave without being rude.

Though he’s not really sure when he started minding about that.

“How’s things at the Civil Corps, Sam?” Mint says from across the table.

Sam pulls herself over the back of the booth and drops down into Cat’s vacated seat. “Same old, same old. Well, I guess not, since Mali got here. The Captain and Remi have been off surveying ruins so I’ve been left with most of the patrols.”

“You do such an amazing job, though, Sam. I’m not surprised they have faith you can do it all on your own,” says Ginger.

Sam colours. “Oh. Um. Thank you, Ginger. That’s – yeah, thank you.”

Ginger has that effect on people, really. Because she doesn’t say too much, when she does, you know she means it, know she’s thought about it. Higgins has been on the receiving end of her sudden, heartfelt compliments and has found himself equally floundering.

“I remember when we down in that tunnel. You were absolutely incredible.” Mint grins at her.

She seems to preen a little now. “Yeah, I guess I was on pretty good form that day. Still, lucky that Remi and Cat got to us when they did. We were really worried about you, kid.”

“Who was worried?” Cat is back, dropping a drink in front of Sam and dragging a chair over to fit against the end of the table.

“Basically everyone, about Mint after the tunnel collapse?”

“Oh yeah, that was gnarly shit.”

“Held your own pretty well though, Builder.”

“Well,” Cat says, leaning across Higgins to grab her drink from next to Sam’s. “I am a woman of many talents.”

And her phrasing stirs a memory in him, at the exact same time a suddenly familiar smell his him. As she pulls back to her seat, the smell – her perfume - fades, and Higgins turns to stare at her in absolute shock.

_A woman of many talents._

The line is familiar, and in an instant, he knows why. She said it to him that day outside the walls, when she stole his bars only to drop them back after she wiped the floor to him. And he’s read it, too, in sloping handwriting and accompanied by a gentle, floral scent. The scent he’s caught hints of from letters hoarded in the drawer next to his bed.

The scent of Cat’s perfume.

The realisation hits him like a punch to the gut. Cat is LY. LY is Cat.

It’s.

 _Her_.

His instinct is to bolt. His instinct is to accuse her – though he’s not sure precisely of what. But somehow – somehow – he keeps it together. Somehow, he lets the conversation slip on around him. Somehow, he takes another sip of his drink, and then declares himself tired. Somehow, he bids everyone completely normal, if stilted in his regular way, goodbyes, and is out the door.

And then he is running. By the time he is at Amber Island, he has decided and undecided a hundred times about what he wants to find. But of course, there’s a letter there. He drops to his knees next to the tree, tears it open, and starts to scan it there and there.

_I did not wait until the evening...fucking myself senseless...you have exhausted me…I’m wearing it tonight…_

He shoves the letter in his pocket, face burning, mind reeling. It’s her words. _Hers_. And he can hear them in her voice, the same honey-syrup she uses to sweetly mock him when she beats him to the Commerce Guild. The gently teasing, almost flirtatious tone she used in the ruins when she put her head on his shoulder and asked him to design her yard.

_I wonder how I would feel around you…_

Home. He has to get home. He is almost painfully hard, and shame battles with arousal and he heads blindly back towards his workshop. He locks the door behind him and staggers upstairs to his bedroom, one hand pulling his tie loose as the other digs the letter out of his pocket.

It’s her, it’s the alleycat. It’s always been her. The message in the _Times_ , those first challenging notes, the letter that called him out for pushing her away. And this one, in his hand, detailing so beautiful how she had spent her _day off_ , how exactly she had _relaxed -_

It was her when they sparred, her when they argued in the Dee Dee, when she’d asked him to show her how to shape her carbon steel bars more efficiently. The same woman he’d pulled against him in the ruins is the one who’s been writing to him, telling him of her pleasure, her lusts.

And it had been him, his words, his letters, bringing her to peak after peak all afternoon. While he reloaded his furnaces and headed out to catch Mint to see if he wanted to join him for dinner, Cat was fucking with his letter clutched in her hand, just as hers is clutched now in his.

He doesn’t remember loosening his pants, collapsing onto his bed, reaching for his cock. But now he grips himself in his free hand and it’s her he pictures – her half-smiles, her laugh, her voice – and it should alarm him how quickly the images form in his mind, as if they’d been there all along waiting for him to call. He remembers their last fight, remembers feeling her underneath him and the odd thrill of power that had gone straight to his cock as she looked up and him before flipping him onto his back. The feel of her leg against his in The Round Table, her closeness when she leant over for her drink, the smell of her perfume filling his senses -

He has cum before he knows it, quickly and shudderingly. For a few brief and blissful moment, his mind is blank, swimming, and then he comes back to himself, the letter clenched in his fist, his cock softening in his hand.

Oh, by all that is holy and light – what is he going to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is basically UST and Higgins POV. If you're wondering if Sam and Phyllis are dating in this, THEY ARE.
> 
> If you're reading along, I would love any comments about what you're enjoying! Even if not, please enjoy!


	7. My Friends Say I'm Acting Peculiarly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (can you hear me calling out your name  
> you know that I'm falling and I don't know what to say  
> I'll speak a little louder, I'll even shout  
> you know that I'm proud and I can't get the words out)
> 
> Higgins works out what to do with his newfound knowledge. The crane is completed. Things get heated at The Round Table.

Higgins wakes blearily, confused dreams of Cat and cranes and being naked in the ruins fading into the ether. Precisely nothing seems clearer in the cold light of day. Which, while completely expected, is still something of a disappointment.

Her last letter is still sitting on his night stand. He resists the urge to pick it up, and instead forces him to get up and go about his morning routine. It’s Saturday, which means he isn’t going to have to head out to the Commerce Guild until later – hopefully avoiding Cat along the way. He needs to get his head on straight before he sees her. He needs to decide what to do.

When he is good and ready, and has a cup of coffee in front of him, he returns to the letter in a way he hasn’t approached any of LY’s missives before: with a critical eye.

Now that he knows, he can see her fingerprints all over it. He feels his cock twitch, but pushes down the feeling, heading to his desk to pull out the rest of her letters.

This whole time, he has been corresponding with the person in town he, until recently, wanted the least to do with. Things have changed recently, since they started working together and maybe even before, but he wonders what he would have done if he’d found out earlier, or at the start.

Would he have written to her in the first place if he’d known it was Cat? It’s unlikely, he thinks. Despite any feelings of physical attraction he’d had for her (mostly successfully quashed over the time she has been there, barring those moments when something has shifted in their sparring, or she’s come too close to him in the Guild), his contempt for her attitude and frustration at how everything seemed to be handed to her have ensured those feelings never grew into anything else.

But now, things are different. Now that he has seen the softer side of her – the side, he realises, she’s never kept from anyone else, but has been barred to him thanks at least in part to his own behaviour – he can’t go back. The memory of her taunts fades against that of her more gentle teasing as they chatted over plans to reorganise her yard after leaving the ruins. Her mocking smile is now her wicked grin as she laughs at one of Sam’s jokes. And far from hating the idea of her touch, he finds himself craving it – the gentle press of her arm against his, fingers brushing dust off his shoulder, her closeness as she leans pass him in her yard to pick up some tool or other…

And other, far less innocent thoughts, burning brightly through the words she has woven for him, neatly piled on his desk.

Higgins has begun to realise that the one thing he is certain of is that he doesn’t want to lose the connection he is forming with Cat. Whether it’s the real version of her – a fledgling friendship, a potential sometimes-partner – or the sensual, secretive LY, he has been...happier with them – with her – as part of his day to day life, and he doesn’t want that to go away. Not yet.

But things can’t keep going as they are. While once, he may have relished this power over her, enjoyed watching her squirm under his anonymous scrutiny, now he only wants that if _she_ wants it, too. He has to tell her.

He pulls out a fresh piece of paper. Best to do it as soon as possible. If things must end, they will end for the right reasons.

*

_LY,_

_I want to tell you what your last letter did to me. I want to tell you how I imagined you, how short the time before receiving your letter and spilling my cum over my hand was. But something has changed and it doesn’t feel right to keep it from you._

_I think I know who you are, LY._

_Please believe me: I did not go searching for this information. I’ve been curious – as I’m sure you have – but I have been exceptionally satisfied with what we have between us at present. This happened by accident, but I can’t forget it._

_I want to ask how you want to proceed from here. I will reveal myself to you, if I am correct and if that is what you wish, but I truly believe that will mean the end of our correspondence. Please know that after consideration, I would be perfectly happy to continue as we are – although I know what face I would be picturing, which hands, and I feel it only right to let you make an informed choice moving forward._

_Yours, if – once more – you will have me,_

_X._

_*_

She doesn’t quite know what to do about the letter in her hand. She hasn’t planned for this – hadn’t thought, if they were ever to identify themselves, that it would happen so soon, and so unexpectedly. X. sounds so genuinely apologetic in his letter, and she doesn’t hold it against him. She wonders where she fucked up. How she was careless, what she said...if she mentioned the letters, or if someone overheard her talking to Albert, or if it was something else that gave her away…

The perfume, maybe? It might depend on when he picked up the letter. She’d all but advertised that she’d been wearing it at The Round Table. Maybe that had been her mistake. But it had felt so _exciting_ , imagining him being there, noticing her…

And she has to admit, as she re-reads his letter, it still excites her now. She doesn’t feel at risk of being exposed, she doesn’t feel afraid. She feels _seen_ , in a way that is at once affirming and erotic.

Cat is not a foolish woman. She sits with the feelings for a while – lets herself imagine the worst case scenarios, and then the best. She remembers Arlo saying _if it’s worth it, you put in the effort_.

She goes about her life, trying to imagine X.’s eyes upon her, testing how it feels. It accompanies her to the Guild inspections, and on Sunday, when Higgins doesn’t turn up for their agreed work session for the crane, she thinks about the twinge of disappointment she feels and how much more acute it would be if she thought she could never hear from X. again.

It’s a risk, of course it is.

But it’s worth it. She hopes.

_*_

_X.,_

_Your letter came as a surprise. Please forgive me for the time it took me to respond – I hope you understand I had a lot to consider._

_Obviously my hope was to remain anonymous, but things change. That’s something I’m realising more and more lately. What we imagine a situation to be is...not always the case. I have come to trust you, X. I think, if you do know who I am, you will keep my secret. I think I would be happy to continue to exchange letter. In fact, I can’t help but wonder at the...potential applications of your new knowledge. Though perhaps we should verify if you’re correct, first._

_In terms of your identity: correct me if I’m wrong, but from your letter, I get the feeling it would not be your first choice to share it with me right now. I don’t want you to be in a position that makes you uncomfortable – particularly if discovering my identity was, as you say, an accident. You can be X. still, and I will be LY and...well, I suppose you’ll have to prove that you guessed right._

_A part of me hopes you are. After I spent some time getting used to the idea, I have to admit – having your eyes on me, not knowing who you are, but knowing you know who I am, what I have written, how I have touched myself...it excites me. And like I say, I trust you. I think perhaps this could be a new chapter in our relationship – if it’s something you’re comfortable with._

_Put a note in my letterbox – nothing explicit! - and I’ll confirm if you’ve worked me out._

_Still yours,_

_LY._

_*_

The note is short, and simply reads “Am I right?” in the same handwriting she has gotten so used to. This time, she wastes no time in writing back.

_*_

_X._

_Yep, you got me. I wonder what gave me away? Don’t say – let’s avoid any more accidents. If you reveal yourself to me, I want it to be because you chose to. Because you_ want _me to know who you are._

_If it’s all the same, I’ll keep signing the letters LY. I trust you – I don’t necessarily trust that nosy townsfolk won’t intercept a letter._

_I plan to visit The Round Table on Friday night. If you like, you can make some sartorial suggestions – whether or not you’ll be there to enjoy them._

_LY._

_*_

She trusts him. At first, it’s the only thing he can take from her letters. It glows inside him in a way he hasn’t felt before, fills him with a strange pride and a fierce surge of affection. LY – Cat – trusts that he will keep her secret, and more, that he can use his knowledge of her identity for their mutual pleasure.

And she wants to keep writing to him, knowing that he knows. Knowing that he could be...anyone. Lately, Higgins has found himself preoccupied by wondering who she thinks _he_ might be, if there is anyone in town she is hoping for, or hoping against.

Something seizes in his chest when he realises that until very recently, he would probably have made the second list. Now, he is not sure he would make a list at all.

Because – and he is not usually a man prone to self-flagellation, but considering everything that has happened between them – why would she want it to be _him_?

In the time between sending his first letter telling her he’d worked her out (most of which has been spent at home, feigning illness, ignoring a polite knock on his door the day they were due to continue work that he is almost sure was her) Higgins has realised something quite unexpected: he has, despite his best efforts not to, developed feelings for Cat. And not just the erotic, alluring version of herself from her letters, but the woman herself, with her skill and her snark and her surprising physical prowess. More and more, it is Cat he pictures writing to, rather than LY-who-happens-to-be-Cat, and he isn’t entirely sure how to deal with this. Lust is one thing, sex is one thing, emotion is…something else altogether.

And now she wants him to _dress_ her, to use his knowledge of her to exercise consented control over her body, even as she remains in the dark as to her identity. He can’t deny that the idea excites him. He isn’t sure, precisely, how he will engineer attending The Round Table at the same time without giving himself away, but surely she’s chosen a busy Friday night for that reason.

He pens his response carefully, racking his brain for a memory of anything notable he has seen Cat wear. Only one thing sticks out – an item of clothing that had captured his attention immediately, much to his then-dismay. Now, the thought of it does something else to him entirely, as he adds the details to the letter.

He can leave it today. But first...first, he should go and see her. If nothing else, the crane needs finishing. He isn’t going to let this situation mar his professional record.

_*_

“Er, hello?”

The voice comes from near her gate. Cat hasn’t quite got round to organising this part of her yard yet, so she has to duck out from behind a furnace to see who it is. When she sees Higgins lingering at the entrance to her property, something in her chest does a strange flip.

“Higgins!” She heads towards him, wiping her hands down on her overalls. “Presley said you weren’t well. Are you feeling better? I haven’t worked much more on the crane. You can laugh if you like, but it didn’t feel quite right without you.”

As she gets closer, she notices that he looks a bit off-colour. Must still be recovering. He seemed fine the other night – although he did leave a little abruptly, so maybe he’d felt it coming on?

“Yes. Well. It happens to the best of us.” He pauses, hand lingering above the gate latch. Cat decides for him and pulls it open. He steps inside. “I apologise for ditching you on Sunday.”

“Old habits die hard,” she says, poking her tongue out. “In seriousness, I’m glad you took the time you needed to feel better. I wasn’t joking on Friday – burnout’s a bad look on anyone.”

Higgins lips quirk in a wry smile. “You actually said it specifically wouldn’t look _cute_ on me – implying that you’ve spent some time considering what would. Honestly, alleycat, first that display in the ruins, and now this – you have to get a hold of yourself.” But his tone is teasing, and Cat grins at him, enjoying this strange new normal that seems to be developing between them.

“I’ll do my best to restrain my lust for you,” she assures him, the image of her nearly pressed against his chest from that day in the ruins coming to her mind unbidden, and being neatly batted aside. “Come on – I think we can finish it today if we get moving.”

As they head towards the her Assembly Platform at the back, she can feel Higgins looking around. “Ah. Yeah, sorry, I didn’t wait for your layout ideas to get started. With Sunday free I thought I should maybe try and make it a little less of a trip hazard around here. Look at you, being such a good influence. Who would have thought?”

“Certainly not me,” he agrees. “Though this still isn’t the most efficient layout...”

Cat spins round, poking him in the chest as his path brings him up behind him. “Take more rests so you don’t get sick and can do my organising for me then, Higs.” To her surprise, he turns quite red when she touches him and she pulls back, suddenly flustered. “Right, anyway. The crane."

There isn’t too much left to do. They fit the engines and attach some of the final plating to the disparate pieces, but they can’t really properly construct it until it’s in situ. There are plans in motion to obtain use of a few of the Dee Dees on Wednesday, which they plan to attach to make-shift trailers to transport the larger pieces down to the harbour. Paulie has volunteered to run a few of the smaller pieces down tomorrow as part of his workout, which of course prompted the Civil Corps team to do the same, so that accounts for pretty much everything.

“It’s looking good,” Cat says, as they run a final engine test. “It’s sounding good.”

“That it is,” Higgins says, looking it over appreciatively. “Not a bad job at all. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by your skill, alleycat.”

She laughs. “From you, I’ll take the compliment. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by your ability not to suplex me every time I asked what you said was an ‘excruciatingly obvious question’.”

Higgins gives her that same wry smile. “Well, we’re all on our own paths to self-improvement, hm?”

“That we are, Higs. That we are.”

*

_Dearest LY,_

_I’m glad our correspondence can continue. I am also...happier than I expected to read that you trust me. Be assured, I won’t betray that trust. I told you early on I am not an easy man to know, but over the last...well, lately, I feel things have been changing. I think I can attribute some of that to you._

_I have been thinking about your proposition. I am not certain I would be able to attend in person, but I find myself intrigued by your invitation to select how you will dress this Thursday. I can’t say I’m intimately familiar with your wardrobe, even knowing your identity, but I do recall you wore a dress last year, on the Day of Memories. You had worn something different during the day, I think, although I can’t recall it. But you must have changed at some point before everyone moved to the river to set off the lanterns. It was a light thing, and...unexpectedly short. Even at the time, I remember taking note despite myself._

_Would you wear it again? For me?_

_Perhaps after you’ve retired for the night, you could return to one of my earlier letters. Slip off that lovely dress, and let your fingers explore…_

_Do let me know if you find this agreeable._

_Yours,_

_X._

_*_

_For me, for me, for me_ echoes in her mind. It’s only Wednesday, but Cat has made sure she has dug the dress in question out, and checked it for any unsexy stains or unnoticed tears. With everything in order, she has hung it in her bedroom, ready for Friday.

Oh, she will definitely be revisiting some of her favourite letters of his afterwards. Her plan is to write to him as soon as she gets in, while she is still amped up, and run the letter out that night so that if he so desires, he can pick it up before dawn. Then, she has a _very_ lazy Saturday planned.

But first: the crane. Today’s the day. Paulie, Sam, Remington and Arlo have shuttled the smaller pieces down, and now they just have to load the Dee Dees. Albert and Mint have rigged up the trailers, and while they probably wouldn’t be much cop for long haul transportation, they should certainly get the larger pieces down to the harbour. Higgins and Cat will meet them there after overseeing the loading, to construct the crane in situ so that it’s ready for use.

As always, her first stop of the day is the Commerce Guild. She is quickest again, but only just. And she pushes the door wider so Higgins can follow her in.

“You’re so slow these days, Higgins,” she chides him, though without malice. “One would almost think you’d had a huge, profitable project you’d been working on that had made these midweek commissions seem like small change.”

“One would almost think,” he says, stepping up to the board beside her.

“Hey, I still got here first. Newfound respect for one another’s world views aside, our rule still stands.”

He looks at her sidelong, giving her a wicked, curling smile. “I’m just looking, alleycat. A man can look, can’t he?”

 _Oh yes, you can_ , come to her mind before she can stop it, and she turns back to the board to hide her flush. This new... _thing_ she has for Higgins is getting out of control. Just because he’s the only man she’s spent significant time with lately, doesn’t mean she can start thinking about jumping his bones every time he looks at her. That would be a poor way to respond to their budding acquaintanceship.

But still, does he have to stand that close? And keep looking at her like that? A girl might think he had things other than commissions on his mind.

 _And would that be so bad?_ says the wicked little voice in her mind that’s been a lot more vocal lately.

 _It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad_ , she tells herself firmly. _I just need to stop._

She picks a commission and steps back towards Antoine while Higgins peruses the remainder. Antoine gives her a strange look.

“Something is going on with you two. Something weird.”

“Yeah,” Cat says, “I think we’re...friends now? Maybe?”

“Oh. That _is_ weird.”

“You’re telling me.”

Higgins has picked his commission and approached the desk. “Ready to head down to the harbour, Cat?”

She can practically _feel_ Antoine raising his eyebrows behind her. She decides, for her own sake, to ignore him “Yep. Let’s get this crane in place.”

*

The final construction goes even more smoothly than expected. Cat had proved extremely amenable to accepting Higgins’ criticisms on her basic crane design and had adapted it with his suggestions on how to improve the final build, and it has paid off. A few cheers go up from the few of them that are gathered there once everything is fixed in place, and Cat and Mint high five.

“I gotta admit, I wasn’t sold on the teamwork thing at first, but look at this thing.” Albert grins up at the crane. “She’s a beaut.”

“Hell yeah she is. You’re coming on Friday to celebrate?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m even, er, making sure Gust comes out. And I’ve invited Paulie and the Civil Corps as thanks for helping out yesterday.”

Cat groans. “Noooo, Albert, now I’m going to have to pay for all Sam’s drinks and that’ll be basically all the gols from this commission down the drain!”

Albert laughs. “I’m sure Higgins can spot her at least one.” Then, he turns his attention to Higgins. “You’ll come along, right? Friday night, we’re going to have a little get together at The Round Table to mark the completion of the harbour before it’s officially announced at the Sunday fireside.”

“Not so little if you invite anyone who so much looks at the place,” Cat grouses. Albert rolls his eyes.

“You should definitely come,” Mint tells him. “Albert’s agreed to buy all the food.”

“Because I’m an idiot, apparently,” the man in question grins. “But see, Cat, I’m footing the actual bill – I get to invite people. You don’t actually _have_ to buy Sam drinks.”

She sighs dramatically. “It’s not that easy and you know it. So are you coming, Higgins?”

It’s her, turning her gaze upon him almost hopefully, that does it. As if he wasn’t looking for an excuse to be at The Round Table this Friday anyway.

“Of course,” he says, warmth glowing in him as Cat grins. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

*

_X.,_

_I’ll be there with bells on. Hopefully, you can make it, but not if it’s a risk to your secrecy. I remember the dress. It’s just long enough that I think I can get away with omitting a certain other item of clothing, if you catch my drift._

_Heavens, even just writing that has got me wet. Imagining me there, in public in that dress, and you near me, unknown to me, but_ knowing _…_

_I can’t wait until Friday. I’ll write to you that night – after. No rush to pick it up, but I’ll definitely be popping out to the island before morning._

_Your LY._

_*_

Higgins contemplates his own outfit for the evening for around two minutes before realising he is going to wear the same thing as always – partly because he doesn’t exactly have a plethora of ‘going out’ clothes and partly because it’s vital he doesn’t look like he knew tonight would be...significant. Despite the way things have changed with him, he cannot bring himself to believe that Cat would be as appreciative of X.’s letters should she discover who is behind them, and he isn’t ready to give that up.

Not, he realises, until he’s had more of a chance to change her mind.

He sneers at himself in the mirror. _Look at you,_ he thinks. _Just like the rest of the town now, desperate for her approval. And all it took was what you’ve said all along – batting her eyelashes._

Except there’s more to it than that, isn’t there? It’s how she’s changed how she speaks to him – how she looks at him as an equal, instead of right past him as an annoyance. It’s how he’s heard her ask “wow! How did you decide I was best for the job, out of all the Builders here?” when presented with a ‘special new project’ from Mayor Gale. And of course, it’s the letters – that he’s seen this side of her that he’s sure no one else in town has, and now, he sort of wants to keep it all for himself.

Either way, for better or for worse, this is where he’s at now. Higgins knows better than to argue with material reality, and the tightening of his chest when Cat grinned up at him in delight as the crane lurched into motion for the first time tells him that his reality is now one she has wormed her way inside.

So he sets out for the evening, with the ambitious goal of wooing his rival without her realising that’s what he’s trying to do.

The restaurant is already busy when he arrives. Practically everyone in town is here, which he supposes works well for him. If there are so many potential candidates for ‘X.’ here, then he won’t stand out. But the thought of her mistaking any of these other fools for him sits sourly in his gut.

“Higgins! You made it, mate!” Suddenly, Albert is at his side, clapping him on the shoulder and pulling him towards the large table in the centre of the room. Several more chairs than usual have been pushed around it, and many are already occupied.

None, he notices, are occupied by Cat.

He lets himself be steered into an empty seat next to Gust and a drink pressed into his hand. Mint grins at him across the table.

“Busy, huh?”

Higgins gives him a look that he hopes conveys ‘thank you for pointing out the obvious’. Mint opens his mouth, potentially to say something equally inane, when a whoop goes up from near the door, and a few more people pile in.

And there she is.

The last time he saw her, she was flushed and sweaty from helping with the crane, dressed in dusty overalls with her hair scraped back into a utilitarian bun. Now, she could not look more different. The dress is pale, embroidered with flowers and twining vines. It clings to her in all the right places, and is much more low cut that he remembers. Or did she wear something underneath it last time? Is this change for him?

For X., his brain tries to correct him, but he cannot take his eyes off her.

She has done her make-up differently, too: her eyes are smokey, and her lips a plush, pouting, innocent pink. She has one arm looped through Emily’s – who, he half-notices, also seems to be dressed up a lot more than usual – and the pair are flanked by an absurdly glittery Antoine and a blushing Ginger, who is wearing her hair piled prettily on her head. Sonia utters a squeal and rushes towards them.

“Oh, em, gee – I am so glad I got the night off for this, you all look _amazing_. I can’t believe I’m still in my work clothes, ugh!”

Cat grabs her by the hands and spins her. “And outshining us all still, babe! But you and I both know you keep extra party clothes upstairs, right?”

Sonia gives her a wicked smile and kisses her perilously close to her mouth. “You know it.”

As Sonia darts away, Cat guides Emily to the bar, and tips her head up to whisper in the other woman’s ear. And then, Higgins loses sight of her in the pressing crowd.

He is half out of his chair to head towards her before his brain catches up with him and he adjusts his movement into a simple shift of position. Gust glances at him, but only with mild curiosity.

“Does she _have_ to make an entrance like that?” he mutters.

Gust smiles thinly. “Cat is a naturally dramatic person, and she’s found her people in Antoine and Sonia. I wonder how she and I get along so well.”

“You and me both,” Higgins says.

“Oh?” Gust raises one of his manicured eyebrows. “I heard from Ginger that the two of you were spending a little more time together after the crane project. And not battling so much. Be aware, she may have taken it upon herself to play matchmaker for the pair of you.”

Higgins’ throat goes dry. “Thank...thank you for the warning.”

Gust tips his glass. His eyes shift past Higgins to where he knows, without looking, Cat and her group is having fun. “It’s good to see her out with friends, though,” he says quietly, and Higgins knows he is talking about his sister.

“Cat is...” he trails off, trying to find the right words. “She has a lot of faults,” he lands on. “But she cares about her friends.”

“And I am lucky to be counted among them.”

 _Hopefully_ , Higgins thinks, _so am I._

_*_

This evening is _wonderful_.

Getting ready with Antoine and Emily had been absolutely the right call. Any uncertainty she had had over wearing The Dress had been quashed by popular vote once she brought it up, and Emily had been excited to do her make-up with the tips she had been picking up from Sonia. Encouraging Ginger to join them (once Gust has been won over to the idea) had been the icing on the cake.

Now, she is dancing, drink in hand (as much as one can dance at The Round Table) with Sonia, the two of them not-so-subtly trying to herd a blushing Emily in Django’s direction. With a final, half-hearted glare, Emily hisses, “Fine, I will go talk to him! Stop trying to _corral_ me!”

“Love this for you, babe!” Sonia calls after her. Cat laughs and lets herself fall into her friend, Sonia’s arm dropping around her waist. And then nearly continuing to fall, as Sonia pulls back unexpectedly. She looks up to see her gaping in astonishment.

“...what?”

“I know what I certainly did _not_ just feel on your hip, girl, and that is a panty line.” Sonia leans close, grabbing Cat by the shoulder. “Babe, are you commando right now?!”

Cat feels herself turning what she expects is a very vivid shade of red. Sonia’s gasp could not be a more perfect blend of scandalised and delighted.

“Emily is hitting on Django. You are panty-free. This might be the best night since that one with the llamas.”

Cat pretends to look horrified. “Sonia! Nothing could be the llamas.”

“I said _since._ But seriously, _who_ are you trying to pull in that get-up? Because if it’s me, it’s working.”

She offers Sonia a wink and takes a sip of her drink before answering. “No one! Well, no one _specific_. I just want to feel..sexy, you know? Available. Like something sudden and raunchy and debauched could actually happen, even if it’s not gonna.”

And it’s half-true, she tells herself. Since she doesn’t know who X. is, she is kind of dressing up for the thrill of it. Judging from a few of the looks she’s gotten, he’s probably not the only one – if he’s here at all – to be a fan of tonight’s look.

Cat is surprised to find the attention stoking a curling heat inside her. She isn’t like this, not normally – that’s why she reached out anonymously in _The Times_ in the first place – but something about the whole situation, about knowing _he_ could be here, that any of the eyes on her could be _his_ , and that if he’s here, he’s probably seeing the other people looking at her too…

It _does_ something to her, sets her alight. She presses her thighs together, suddenly glad for the riot of smells from the food and the people all crammed together in Django’s restaurant that will drown out any particular scent that comes from _her_.

Suddenly, she feels arms around her waist, and she is being spun around. She lets out a loud yelp as she is deposited down on the floor, and turns to find Albert behind her.

“Well, well, don’t you scrub up well!” he says, dropping her a wink. “Should’ve been more persistent in my pursuit of you. Now I’ve lost you to some mystery man.”

Cat thumps his chest playfully. “And a good thing too. Imagine how heartbroken I’d have been when you left me to pine for Gust.”

Albert catches her hand and holds his against his heart, looking as if she has mortally wounded him. “You shoot to kill, my Builder friend.”

“Maiming just leaves enemies with grudges.”

“Speaking of enemies, things with you and dear old Higgins seem to have become disturbingly civil lately. Should I expect an announcement for a new, joint workshop soon?”

“Actually, we’re going to open a construction company,” she tells him, as he steers her towards their table. She waves back at Sonia to let her know she’s switching groups, but Sonia is already distracted trying to convince Paulie to lift her onto his shoulders. “Run you and Gust out of town. Bring Mint on an as intern. We think the idea has legs.”

“What has legs?” Gust asks, as she passes by him to find a free seat.

“Cat, in that dress,” Albert quips.

“Fun fact, these are my usual legs. But Albert’s talking about the grand plan Higgins and I have to open a rival construction company and burn A&G to the ground.” She drops down next to the Builder in question, dropping an arm around his shoulders in dizzy glee. “Right, Higs?”

Higgins’ face is red, possibly from the heat in here, and it takes him a clear moment to work out what is happening around him. But then, he smiles his usual sneering grin, and plays along. “Absolutely. Frankly, it seems like the building is the hard part. You even have us researching and drawing up your diagrams. If your entire job is pointing at the sea and going ‘we could build a harbour there’, I think the pair of us should have no trouble taking you down.”

Cat stares at him in delight. “This is a whole other side of you, Higgins, and I’m _loving_ it. Who knew it was so much fun watching you drag someone else for a change?”

He gives her an indulgent smile, and maybe it’s the strangeness of the past week, or maybe it’s the atmosphere tonight, but it goes right to her cunt. She shivers, and drags her hand from his shoulders to wrap around his arm.

“Clearly, this crane project has proved we’re a fucking incredible team. Should we start a furniture shop too? Run for joint mayor? Take over the Civil Corps?”

“Heaven, no, not the Civil Corps. That seems far more trouble than it’s worth. Let the three of them keep cavorting around the wasteland if it makes them happy. We’ll be much too busy with our empire.”

Mint stares at them from across the table. “By all that’s light and holy. I’ve created a monster.”

Cat gives him a grin that’s all teeth. “We tried to tell you. This whole enemies thing has been for Portia’s safety, you know. But you’ve undone all our hard work, and now, regrettably, the economy is ours.”

Higgins nods, and Cat starts a little as she feels him wind his free hand around where hers meets his arm. “You only have yourself to blame."

*

Higgins isn’t sure where this sudden boldness of his has come from, but he thinks it started with Cat’s arm slung over his shoulders and the conspiratorial glint in his eyes when she looked at him as she sat down. It was the sort of look shared between partners in crime, something he found himself suddenly very desperately wanting to be with her.

Her wicked humour is infectious, and he finds playing along all too easy. When she winds herself round his arm, his heart jumps into his mouth, but he realises – this is his chance. For whatever reason, she has drawn herself close to him, and he has the perfect opportunity to ensure her attention remains on him, and only him.

But then Albert is leaning across the table, pulling an exaggerated pout, and he can’t help but remember every time the man has gone to Cat with a commission instead of him (which, suddenly, doesn’t feel like Cat’s fault at all, and when exactly did _that_ happen?).

“You’d leave me destitute? On the street? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Aww, Albert,” Cat says, in that honey-syrup tone. “I would never! We’ll need a ruin diver for sure, since we’ll be so busy. You don’t mind getting dirty for me, do you?”

Gust sputters from next to him as Higgins feels his ire towards Albert grow. Unconsciously, he pulls Cat a little closer to him. She looks surprised for an instant, until she cuts her eyes at him and smiles a very feline smile. He feels himself grow warm, and a reasonable amount of blood rush south.

“That’s hardly appropriate, Cat,” Gust says, sounding slightly strangled.

Cat turns to him with a faux-innocent expression, leaning around Higgins in a way that makes it very hard not to look down her lovely dress. Quickly, turns to look at Gust instead.

“Oh, Gust, please don’t take offence. You can ruin dive for us, too. We can probably only afford one bed for the two of you – margins and all that – but I’m sure you understand.”

Gust shakes his head in disbelief, clearly quite overcome by the absurdity of the whole concept. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”

Higgins doubts he would have noticed if he wasn’t, at that moment, incredibly attuned to her movements. But for an instant, Cat shifts her body towards Albert, and clearly gives him some kind of look, because the man then says, “Gust! You’ll leave me to toil in the ruins alone, under the yoke of these two despots? I thought we were friends!”

Gust swirls the wine in his glass contemplatively. He looks like he is deciding whether to entertain this nonsense or abandon them entirely. He appears to decide on the former. “Obviously I would liberate, you, Albert, and we would run away back to Atara to eke out a living as travelling minstrels.”

Something about this seems to take Albert by surprise, since he blinks and says, “Y-you would?”

Gust smiles at him indulgently. “Of course. What are...friends for?”

“What indeed?” Cat practically purrs next to him, sending a slurring jolt of arousal to his cock. “But that leaves us without any ruin divers. Who are we meant to turn to? Mint?”

“I’m deceptively wiry,” Mint tells her. “And I need very little in terms of upkeep.”

Struck by an idea, Higgins leans in close to speak into Cat’s ear. “Oh, come on. He’ll just spend his whole shift napping and scam us out of his paycheck.”

He is rewarded by feeling her shiver against him and turn her smoke-lined gaze towards him, pupils blown. _It’s working_ , he thinks, almost deliriously. She wants me. _In this moment, my alleycat wants me._

She holds his stare a moment longer, before adjusting her stance and turning an imperious look to Mint. She is still holding his arm. “My esteemed partner raises a good point. How do we know you won’t simply sleep the day away?”

Mint raises his hands in mock-surrender. “You’ve got me. I just want that easy nine-to-five life on your dime.”

She shakes her head. “Completely untrustworthy. There’s no good help to be found.”

Higgins pats her hand. “We’ll just have to manage on our own, my dear.”

“Cleary,” Cat says, sighing dramatically. “Oh, hang on.” Her arm slips from his grasp as she twists in her seat, and he feels the loss instantly. “Sonia? What’s up?”

“You have to come see this, Cat. We did this. _We did this._ ”

And then she is gone completely, dragged by Sonia towards the games room, and he is left with the uncomfortable ache in his cock and the sudden embarrassment, in her absence, at having behaved that way in front of the others.

“Excuse me.”

He pushes his chair out. He has to get some air, or he’s going to explode.

*

“What? What did we – oh. Oh!”

Cat follows Sonia’s finger to the corner behind the balloon game, where Emily is currently standing wrapped in Django’s arms, her hair loose, looking up at him with a dazed expression.

“Oh my gosh, look at them!” Sonia squeals, gripping Cat’s hand tightly.

“I am, I am!” Cat hisses back. “But it’s starting to look like we really shouldn’t!” Indeed, Django has inclined his head a little, and Emily is pressing up on her toes…

“Wha- ? No, Cat, c’mon, I wanna perv -!”

Cat continues to tug her away. “We perv on third dates, Sonia, when things are established. We don’t ruin blossoming romances with our fangirling.”

“Ugh, I hate that you’re right. I am going to need all the details from her lately, though – this is the most exciting thing to happen in so long. And I am going to tease Django _constantly_ once those two are solid. Gosh, work is going to be _so_ much more fun.”

“Did you see how it happened?” she asks, as Sonia drops into a booth next to Antoine and a vampy-looking Phyllis. “Oh, _hello_.”

Phyllis rewards her with a lascivious smile. “Sam should be coming later.”

“I’ll say,” Sonia says, earning another wicked smile from Phyllis. “But anyway, no, I didn’t see how it happened, I was just chatting to these guys for like a second, and suddenly I’m like, where’s Emily, is she still with Django, and then I saw them go through to the back room and grabbed you.”

“You’re doing Peach’s work,” Cat assures her, sitting down. “Now we just need to help Antoine come up with a better strategy to get the good doctor’s attention than constantly faking sickness.”

Antoine pouts. “I want him to take care of me.”

“Look, we all want a hot doctor to take care of us, hon, but he’s going to catch on.”

Phyllis shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. He’s awfully credulous for such an intelligent man.”

Antoine gestures to Phyllis triumphantly. “There. My plan is perfect.”

“By the way,” Sonia says, and Cat knows from the gleam in her eye what she’s about to say moments before she says it, too late to stop her. “Did you guys know kitty Cat isn’t wearing any underwear tonight?”

Antoine lets out a full gasp, and Phyllis looks at her with an appreciative raised brow. “Oh, really now? Anyone special?”

“Thanks so much, Sonia, and no, like I told this one -” she jabs a finger at Sonia, who is looking like the cat that got the cream, “- it’s just because I wanted to feel...ravishable for a night.”

“Oh, darling. Don’t you ever doubt how ravishable you are. If it wasn’t for this town’s small-minded views on polyamory -”

“I’ve already told you I don’t love you and Sam that way, Phyl.”

“The world is full of such tragedies.”

Sonia wiggles her eyebrows a Cat, leaning forward. “I know _someone_ who looked like they wouldn’t mind ravishing you.” She casts her eyes towards the centre table, and then gives Cat as knowing look. “A certain _Builder_ , maybe not as bristly as he _seems_...”

Cat feels her cheeks flush. She hadn’t realised they had seen that. She suddenly feels very foolish, although in the moment, she hadn’t felt that at all. Far from it – she had felt confident, electric, arousal winding a sinuous line down her spine as she had drawn herself closer to Higgins. And he certainly hadn’t seemed to mind – not if the way he had looked at her was any indication, or, she thinks, the bulge she wonders if she imagined in his pants...

“Shut. _Up_. You and Higgins?” Antoine gapes at her. “I am going to straight up _die_.”

“Don’t write your will out just yet, Antoine,” Cat laughs, trying to diffuse the situation. “We were just playing around.” Weren’t they? Were they?

He points at her dramatically. “And that’s shocking enough! Not even two weeks ago, the only way you two would have laid hands on each other is to slap each other silly over commissions.”

Cat spreads her hands placatingly. “He hasn’t been so bad. I think we’ve come to...an understanding, or something. I think we can be friends.”

Sonia snorts. “That boy does not want to be _friends_ with you. Friends with your lady parts, maybe -”

“This is _exactly_ why it’s so hard to get a proper date in this town,” Cat sighs. “The moment two people start spending any amount of time together, everyone’s on top of them. _This_ is why we don’t perv until date three, Sonia.”

Phyllis nods sagely. “Sam and I dated in secret for a full three months before going public. It’s so hard to make anything real when it feels like the whole town is watching you.”

Sonia grimaces. “I know. And I know I’m part of the problem. It’s just so boring around here sometimes.”

She looks so put out, Cat almost feels sorry for her. “You know what makes things less boring?”

Sonia looks up at her hopefully. “Shots?”

“Shots.”

Besides, getting shots will give her some time to work out exactly what that scene back at the table with Higgins had meant, and quite why she can't stop searching for him in the crowd, nervous energy and something else she can't quite name curling through her.

It feels like a night for reckless chances, Cat thinks, and when she can't find Higgins inside, she feels herself moving to the door, almost outside of herself. Heat thrums through her, and it suddenly seems very, very important that the two of them have a...conversation.

*

Higgins presses his back against the cool brick, drawing in lungfuls of cool air. Gradually, he feels himself coming down from his arousal, feels his body begin to feel normal again, less like every nerve ending is electric and aligned to Cat’s presence.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been out here, but his mind has kept playing the image of Cat’s wide-eyed look after he whispered in her ear, keeps reminding him of how when she shifted to talk across him to Gust, her breasts were pressed close to his arm. Calming down has been almost impossible, especially since he swears he can still hear her voice lilting through the open windows, though he can’t make out what she’s saying. If it’s even her, and not a figment of his fevered imagination.

It had been unbearably intoxicating, having her so close, knowing that she had so little on beneath her dress – the dress he had asked her to wear. And yes, she doesn’t know he is X., doesn’t know he is the one who has helped bring her to climax after climax with his letters, but inside, it hadn’t felt like that mattered. It wasn’t some mysterious letter writer she was pressed up against – it was him, someone she knows, someone she’s fought with and worked with, someone she’s hated and...wanted?

There’s a clatter from around the front of the restaurant, and Higgins presses himself back against the wall. He is calmer now, but not quite ready to head back inside. And he is certainly not ready to head home, not when there is a chance he could capture another moment like that with Cat, maybe feel more of her body against his -

“Higgins? Higs? Is that you?”

Oh heavens, it’s her.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Just...getting some air,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound too choked. She emerges round the corner out of the dark, her face flushed and her loose hair slightly mussed. The smile she gives him when she sees him is so genuine, he thinks he feels something break inside him.

“Are you coming back in?”

“Soon.”

She is drawing closer. He wants to pull her to him, and at the same time he wants to step back, to keep her at a distance until he has full control of himself. Cat is clearly not aware of his dilemma, as she winds closer still.

“I’m glad I caught you out here.” She tucks her hands behind her, which does wonderful things for her chest. Higgins tries very hard to stay focused on her face. “I wanted to check you were okay with everything, earlier. I mean, it seemed like you were having fun, but I wanted to check I didn’t...come on too strong.”

Somehow, she has gotten closer. He waves a hand weakly. “Not at all. You make an excellent bantering partner.”

She is barely a foot away from him now, and biting her lip. There is an odd look in her eye. After a few moments, she seems to come to some sort of decision. She leans in, close enough that he can smell her perfume – the same one that laces her letters.

“Is that all you want me to be?”

She is almost on top of him now – all but flush against him, except no part of them is touching. It would be so easy. So easy to reach out and pull her to him, to snake a hand in her head and press his mouth against hers. And she is looking up at him like _that_ , with a half-lidded, sultry look, her lips parted just so -

He wants to. Oh, he wants to. Her breath warms his neck. She wants him to, too.

He reaches out and puts his hands on her hips. She makes a satisfied noise in her throat and his cock twitches, and he gently, gently pulls her against him. She can feel him now, he’s sure of it, and she is looking up at him, lust-dazed, as his hands drift lower…

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he says, idly, hands skimming over her hips, dipping over her thighs, barely brushing against her backside.

“Do you want to check?” she breathes, and he can feel her words against his lips.

He does.

He could.

He won’t.

She is worked up, and he knows that he – as X. - is partly responsible for that. He lets himself imagine that he as Higgins is partly responsible, too, but that’s the thing. He has come to realise he doesn’t want to be _partly_ responsible for her being in this state. He doesn’t want to be just a warm, responsive body. He wants to be _wholly_ responsible. He wants her to want him – all of him, as he is and because of it, and he wants her to know him like he knows her, secret letters and all.

And this isn’t the time. As much as he wants it to be – as much as his cock throbs for it to be – he has been drinking, she has been drinking, and there is and has been too much between them for this to start with an alcohol-fuelled rut against the wall of The Round Table.

So, with a herculean effort, he shakes his head. “Not tonight, alleycat.” He sees the sudden flash of hurt in her eyes, the vulnerability, and he decides to allow them both this – he leans down, and gently presses a kiss to the very corner of her mouth. Her eyes flutter shut. “Not tonight,” he tells her, begging her to understand.

The look she gives him when he opens his eyes is one he doesn’t think he will ever forget. She looks dreamy, half-awestruck, and her eyes are shimmering with an emotion he doesn’t let himself try to name.

“Not tonight,” she repeats, a catch in her voice. Then she is drawing away, slowly, tortuously, and his body is demanding he stop her, pull her back, kiss her until her lips are imprinted with his even when they are apart.

But he doesn’t. He lets her go, drifting into the dark. He waits until he hears the door to The Round Table close and then, with a deep, shuddering breath, he heads home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long-ass chapter! I worry things shifted between them too quickly but hopefully it feels okay in the reading. This chapter also helped me discover my accidental OTP of Cat and Sonia. I also went through about five different decisions to get the title/lyrics for this one.
> 
> The next update will be the last two chapters at once. As always, comments appreciated and adored.


	8. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I'm not in this scene, I think I'm falling asleep  
> but then all that it means is I'll always be dreaming of her)
> 
> Cat's last letter to X. changes things between her and Higgins for good.

_X.,_

_Tonight was not what I expected. I don’t know if I can keep writing to you. I’ve met – well, not met, and honestly, I’m not sure if he_

_*_

_Lovely X.,_

_What a night! My entire body felt alive, knowing that you might be there, watching me. I left the underwear at home, as promised, which was remarkably freeing. Though I was worried that the scent of my arousal would be obvious when I was sat with_

_*_

_Dearest X.,_

_I have something to tell you. When we set out, everything was different. So much has changed so quickly and I know you have been part of that. I know I said I wouldn’t ask you for your identity, but I have begun to think_

_*_

_Higgins,_

_You said not tonight. Is tomorrow any better? I’ll be waiting, wearing nothing but_

_*_

Letter after letter ends up discarded in her waste bin. Cat presses the heels of her hands to her eyes in frustration. For the first time, she simply cannot find the words. She still feels edgy, alive, the tingling in her cunt re-emerging at random moments. The alcohol is still buzzing in her system, and the memory of Higgins' lips pressed soft against the edge of her mouth is nearly driving her to distraction.

She doesn’t quite know what possessed her to go outside looking for him. When she saw him, though, leaning against the wall, his usually immaculate hair slightly mussed as if he has run his hand through it...it was like something finally slotted into place. Like she had woken up from a string of confusing dreams and realised, with relief, that it was dawn.

Before all this, she has never thought of him as either attractive or unattractive. She had simply...not thought of him like that at all. He was her rival, her self-styled nemesis, and as such lived in a box all his own. But everything with X., knowing he could be anyone, and everything with Higgins over this past week – his changing attitude, his intermittent closeness, the odd, curling smile of his she finds herself trying to evoke...To say she is seeing him in a new light is an understatement.

And tonight seems to have been the last straw.

But what does that mean for her correspondence with X.?

They have never spoken about what would happen if one of them wanted to pursue someone in real life. For herself, certainly, Cat supposed it was never an option – that was the point of the letters, after all. But in that shadowed alley, with Higgin’s hands on her waist, things seemed different. Things seemed possible.

Is this something she wants to pursue? Something like that...with _Higgins_?

And if so – does she still write to X.? Is that cheating? Is she betraying X. with her thoughts of Higgins? If she succeeds in taking Higgins to bed, is it unfair to still write to X.?

It would be simple if only they were one in the same.

Cat’s pen still above the blank sheet above her, the cogs in her mind beginning to turn. What if...what if...well, _could_ Higgins be X.? She’s never really exchanged letters with him before, having thrown out his mocking missive after he’d conned her out of a stack of materials, so she doesn’t exactly have his a sample of his writing to hand to compare. It’s not...impossible, she supposes. But there are so many other possible candidates in town, so it’s far from a likelihood.

But she wants it to be true, suddenly, with an aching need. She wants the letters to have been from him, wants it to have been his hand that wrote the words she has used to inspire herself to greater heights of pleasure. She _wants_ it to have been he who chose her dress tonight, who knew all along as she wrapped herself against him the delicious and erotic thoughts she had shared with her mystery penpal.

But she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.

Eventually, she begins to write again.

_*_

_My dear X.,_

_When I promised you this letter, I thought the words would come easily. I thought I would spend an erotically-charged evening at The Round Table (which to be quite fair, I have) under your potential scrutiny, and return home desperate to find completion at your hands, and having to content myself with my own. Then, sated, I would write to you, and creep out into the night to leave you this letter, before collapsing into my bed, spent and exhausted._

_But the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry._

_I think, at the beginning of our correspondence, neither of us quite expected the connection we’ve reached through these letters. And certainly, while there are plenty of attractive candidates in town, no one in particular had turned my head more than anyone else, so I can truthfully say – despite your earlier worry – that until recently, I would have been delighted by discovering almost anyone at the other end of these notes. Because they would be you, X., and that would be what mattered._

_As I said, until recently._

_What has happened to me is as unexpected as if the sun had suddenly risen one day shining lurid green light. But nevertheless, it has happened. There’s someone else, X. There’s someone in town I think...I think I may want to pursue._

_I am half certain it will come to nothing. He and I have been at loggerheads for quite some time. Since you know who I am, I imagine (particularly if you were watching me tonight at The Round Table) you know exactly who I am talking about. Are you as surprised as I am? I’ll confess, until recently, he was not someone who turned my head in that way. But now...I can’t get him off my mind. And I feel there is more to it than simple lust. Things have shifted between us lately, and there is this tenuous, fledgling...connection, that I think could be so much more._

_There is every chance he would reject me, that was transpired between us last night was a lust-and-alcohol induced anomaly. But I think I owe it to myself – and to him, potentially – to try. I’ve let fear and uncertainty hold me back for too long, secreting myself away in the shadows instead of going for what I want. I don’t think I can do that any more. And strangely, part of that is down to you. Your letters have helped me become so much more of who I am – so much more alive in my body, alight to my own pleasure, and desirous of bringing pleasure to you. It feels so rude of me to write this, to thank you for preparing me for someone else, but I...like I say, so many things have changed._

_I am aware, of course, that the two of you are one in the same. That I am pouring my heart out in this letter to the exact person it is regarding. If that is the case, I only ask that you don’t mock me for this. Though...I don’t think you will. As I have said before, I trust you, X. And I don’t think you will betray that trust, even if this letter changes things between us._

_I don’t know what is next for us. I don’t know what is next for me. But I had to send this letter – not just because you were expecting it, but to thank you deeply for every letter you have sent me and every word we have exchanged. What tomorrow will bring for us, or for me and...him...remains to be seen._

_But know that you will always be in my heart._

_Cat._

_*_

The night is cool, with the lingering warmth of the day offsetting the dark breeze. Cat has changed into some slightly more practical attire, particular as the warmth of her buzz has worn off, and tucked the letter into her pocket before heading out. She knows this will change things. She isn’t entirely sure it will change them for the better. But it feels like it needs to be done.

The walk is quiet, the silence broken only by soft murmurings from the town as she walks round the walls, and the occasional animal cry from the wildlife. The grass is soft beneath her feet, and the moon and stars hang like jewels in the sky above.

Whatever happens, she loves it here. Her friends, her job, her life. She is happy. She will be happy, she thinks, no matter what comes of this letter. What comes of things with Higgins.

When she leaves the letter in the tree, she knows in her heart this will be the last time she does. She will check for his reply, of course, but she is sure this is the last time she will write a letter to dear Mr X. The thought stings a little, but there is a wide future before her and she can’t turn away from it for memories and mysteries.

She feels almost absurdly light, walking home. At some point in the night, she is aware that she has made a decision regarding Higgins. She isn’t sure if it was when she wrapped her arm or around his at The Round Table, or during their almost-kiss outside. It may have been when she found herself unexpectedly writing a letter to him, instead of X., or when she stilled her pen and realised what letter she had to write. She doesn’t know. But it has happened. The strange, and honestly slightly alarming, truth, is that she has rather fallen for the cantankerous Builder, and she plans to see those feelings through.

For better or worse, through the briar and brambles.

_*_

The letter sits unopened on Higgins’ desk for several hours. He had set out at dawn, the dew clinging to the hems of his pants, to retrieve it, but he has not yet been able to bring himself to read it.

What if she has written about what happened between them last night?

What if she hasn’t?

He has been up half the night, reliving that moment outside the restaurant, with her barely a breath away from him, looking up at him with a gaze full of lust mixed with something much softer and more dangerous. Half the time he curses himself for not pulling her against him and kissing her senseless, spinning her around and pressing her to the wall, guiding her hand to his painfully hard cock…

The other half, he wonders what he was thinking kissing her, holding her so gently, all but telling her that he – that he felt -

And the letter might change everything, or it might change nothing at all.

Eventually, he convinces himself to sit down at his desk, and ease open the envelope. Either way, the letter is here, and it does him no good to pretend otherwise. Taking a breath, he starts to read.

And he reads.

And he reads it again.

And on the third time, he finally understands what he is reading.

She has written about him. Not him-X., but him-Higgins, and _how_. He knows she wrote this last night – she may still have been under the influence of drink and the charged atmosphere between them – but there is something careful in her words that tells him she means this, every line. And more than that – it has occurred to her that he may X., that she may be writing all of this to _him_ , and she has written it anyway.

The soft sincerity of it all brings a lump to his throat, tightens something uncomfortably in his chest. This is it, he thinks – this is the turning point. She has laid herself bare before him, heart and soul, and it is in his power to do something about it. To...to make her his.

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to wait. It is still early, and given the number of people at The Round Table last night he imagines most of the town will still be sleeping off their excesses. There is every likelihood she is still at her workshop, where he can speak to her privately, where he can tell her..

He doesn’t quite know what he will tell her. How he will tell her. But it doesn’t feel like that matters, right now. Crushing her letter into his pocket, he sets out.

She is not at her workshop. She is making her way up towards the Commerce Guild, presumably for the inspection, and he quickens his pace. She must catch sight of him, because she pauses, and turns towards him.

“Higgins,” she says, as she grows closer, a pretty blush colouring her cheeks. “Hi. I – I didn’t think I’d see you this early, but about last night -”

He doesn’t let her finish. He steps up to her, close, almost as close as they were last night, and reaches out to wrap his fingers around her wrist. She looks startled at their sudden proximity, at his touch, but she doesn’t pull away.

There are faint remnants of her make-up from the night before below her eyes, and there is something so unexpectedly moving about seeing here like this – half put-back-together, half still undone by him. He raises her hand to rest between them, and shifts his hold to twine his fingers into hers.

“I got your letter,” he tells her in a low voice, holding her gaze, waiting for her to understand.

Several emotions flick across her face in quick succession – confusion, surprise, disbelief, and then, finally, wonderfully, _hope_.

“You...it was you?”

“Me.”

“And I – and the letter – you…?”

“Not what I had expected.” He draws her hand to his chest, pressing it to his thundering heart. “But better.”

For a second, it seems like she cannot tear herself away from his gaze. And then, her eyes dart quickly to the Guild, and then behind him, searching the streets.

“Come to my workshop,” she says, thickly. “We should...talk.”

*

It becomes clear, once the door has closed behind them, that neither of them has any intention of talking.

*

Cat’s mouth finds his almost before they are fully inside, and she presses him back against her front door, hands winding into his vest. He groans appreciatively as she moves herself against him, feeling himself grow hard. This is _not_ how he had seen this morning going, but he is finding it _extremely_ acceptable.

Still, old habits die hard. “I thought you wanted to talk?” he chides her in between kisses, biting back a gasp as one of her hands trails up to his neck, curling underneath his collar. “This doesn’t feel like talking.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmurs, lips soft against him. “We can discuss the matter over tea, if you’d prefer.”

He drags a hand down her back, clasping her buttocks and eliciting a pleased gasp from her. “It would be an entirely more civil way to start the proceedings, don’t you think? Instead of this...frantic display of yours.”

Cat shifts, pressing one leg in between his, leaning herself against his hard cock. He hisses in air between his teeth. “My apologies, Higgins. I didn’t realise you found it so distasteful.” She begins to move away, and he shifts his hands to her hips, pulling her back against him.

“Now, I didn’t say that. So rude, putting words in my mouth, Besides, I think I’m due a little lack of civility, don’t you?”

She gives him a wicked grin, “When have you _ever_ been civil?”

He hums in this throat, and then in one fluid movement, shifts their weight so that it’s her against the door, and him pressing down against her. “Wasn’t it you who was getting at me to be more polite?” This time, he pretends to pull away, giving her a smug smile. “What’s that saying, be careful what you wish for? Perhaps some tea _would_ be -”

He is cut off as she kisses him again, slipping her tongue inside his mouth arching up against him. When they break apart, her eyes are glinting. “Take me to bed, you bastard.”

“In the interest of improved relations, I suppose I must.”

He doesn’t know where her bedroom is, but as he pulls her away from the door, she jerks her head to a room off to the side and he leads her towards it. It dimly registers that the inside of her house is as messy as the outside, but that hardly seems to matter right now.

Cat is tugging off her t-shirt, throwing it to the floor. Standing there in her bra, she looks...well. She moves to unbutton her jeans, and then pauses.

“This is alright, right?” she asks, sending him a querying glance. “I mean, I know we’ve joked about talking, but if you want to, if you think it’s too fast -”

He silences her by tearing off his tie and beginning to unbutton his vest. Her eyes follow his fingers hungrily, sending a powerful rush of pride-tinted arousal through him, and before he can push it from his shoulders she is upon him, doing it instead, running her fingers down his shirt-clad chest and searching for the next set of buttons. He reciprocates by reaching between them for the clasps of her jeans, and she raises her hips towards him appreciatively.

“Wouldn’t have pictured this a couple of weeks ago, huh?” she asks him breathlessly, as his shirt joins his vest on the floor.

“Certainly not so amicably,” he agrees. “Although there have been times, even less recently, when I couldn’t help but wonder...”

“I was turned on the last time we sparred. After one of your ruder letters. That’s why I came out looking for a fight. And I think I got it all mixed up in my head because when I had you pinned, for a moment there I just wanted to sink down on you, roll my hips and -”

“You _wretch_.” He slides her jeans down her hips, fingers skimming her hips, making her shudder. He is almost disappointed that she is wearing underwear today. “Using me like that to work off your _anger_...your _arousal_...”

“You should have been nicer.”

“Maybe now I’ll show you how nice I can be.”

“Promises, promises, Higgins. Haven’t we had enough words?”

Capturing her hand, he brings it to his lips. “ _Never_.”

Once they have finished undressing, she leads him to her bed, all skin and curves and in this moment, his. She eases herself down, gently tugging him towards her, until they are tangled together on her sheets, the warm morning light spilling through the window onto them.

He kisses her again, more tenderly now. He knows it has been a while for both of them. He knows they’ve both made each other more promises in their letters than they could possibly fulfil in just this one morning. The thought of more mornings like this – of nights like this – sends another thrill down to his cock, and he presses himself against her.

She groans and arches into him. “Please, Higgins,” she whispers into his neck. “I want you. Take me.”

And who is he to deny such a plea?

They shift together, adjusting themselves. Cat runs a hand down his chest to reach between them, and when her fingers wrap around his cock for the first time, it is almost too much. He presses his face into the pillows beside her face, letting out her shuddering gasp.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, “if anything’s not right. If you want – if you need to stop, or if I’m -”

“Same,” he tells her. “But it’s all – ah – this is -”

He feels more than sees that wicked smile of hers as she guides him towards her. The head of his cock moves against her cunt, and he groans.

“You’re so wet for me, alleycat.”

“This is what your letters did to me. Even before I realised it was you, I lay here like this, wet and wanting, wondering how much better your cock would feel than my fingers...” She trails off into a long, breathy moan as he feels himself start to slide inside her. She is tight, and hot, and so, so _wet_.

She moves her hand away, and Higgins shifts his hips, pressing more of his length into her. She tips her head back, groaning in pleasure, and he takes the opportunity to press kisses to her neck, inhaling the scent of her. When he reaches the place where her neck curves into her shoulder, he bites down – just hard enough – and is rewarded by a delightful mewl from her as her cunt clenches around his cock.

“Well,” he hums into her neck. “Looks like I was right about you liking a little pain with your pleasure.”

“Not too much,” she gasps, but she arches her chest towards him, and he obligingly wraps a hand around one breast and squeezes, just a little tighter than he thinks is comfortable. “Heavens, _Higgins_...”

The tightness of her around his cock is unbelievable. He has sunk mostly into her now, and with an effort, begins to draw his cock back out, ready to fuck her in earnest.

“Please,” she begs him, and of course, he obliges, sinking deep back into her as her lips find his again. “More, Higgins, please.”

Had he spent much time imagining this, his first time fucking his rival, he doubts he would have imagined it like this: so sweet, so intense. He tangles his free hand in her hair as he moves against her, her hips bucking to meet his, questing after his cock as he pulls away after each thrust.

“You’re so needy, my little kitten.” he tells her, eliciting a whine that makes his cock twitch inside her. “No wonder you had to reach out like that in The Times. But don’t worry. I’ve got you now, my dear alleycat, you can have me whenever the mood takes you, whenever your cunt finds itself desperate to be filled.”

“Higgins -”

One of her legs wraps round him, pulling him deeper into her. Then, suddenly, like by the door, like when they fought, his world is turning and then she is on top of him, sitting back, her face a vision as she drives herself down onto his cock. One hand dips down to her cunt and he can feel her touching herself, her fingers nudging against his cock as it slides in and out of her tightness. She arches, and the sight of her so lost in her pleasure, so bare before him, as she lets out a gasp as she impales herself on him again, is what does for him. He feels his hips jerk, feelings himself tipping towards that blissful edge…

Cat can feel it too, and she opens her eyes, her gaze hazed by lust. Her fingers on her clit work faster, and he closes his eyes as he feels the last of his control slip away from him and he releases himself inside her, his orgasm running through him bodily, blanking his mind.

She rides him through it, murmuring encouragement, her fingers working herself, and as he feels himself beginning to come down her cunt starts to clench, milking the last of his cum from his still-hard cock, as her own climax takes her. It is a beautiful thing to watch as her face twists in pleasure, and his foggy mind reminds him that she may have looked like this while she fucked herself to his letters, that this is not the first time he has, in some way, made her cum.

Eventually she is spent, and drops down onto him, his now softening cock sliding out of her. She presses kisses to his neck, running one hand over his chest, as her breathing starts to return to normal.

They lie like that, listening to each other’s heartbeats, for some time, the smell of their sex heady in the air, and the warm late-summer sun filtering through her windows covering them in a blanket of light.

_*_

When they have both stopped feeling boneless, and dragged themselves from bed long enough to make some attempt at cleaning up, Cat offers to make them something to eat. Suddenly aware that he hasn’t eaten since the night before, Higgins agrees.

She moves around her small kitchen in a light robe, something silky that clings to her curves. He has pulled his pants back on and watches her from the doorway, marvelling at the series of events that have brought them here. He would never have expected that the few lines in _The Times_ that had piqued his interest would lead to...this. With her.

And yet, here they are.

She deposits two plates on the table and gestures for him to sit. When he does, she fixes him with a piercing look.

“So, Higgins,” she says. “Where do we go from here?”


	9. The Time It Took For Our Paths To Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (started in the strangest way, didn't see it coming  
> swept up in your hurricane, wouldn't give it up for nothing
> 
> I don't really know a lot about love  
> but you're in my head, you're in my blood  
> and it feels so good, it hurts so much)
> 
> After and beyond.

Cat can feel Higgins looking at her. This is supposed to be a quiet moment of reflection and remembrance, damn it. She shouldn’t be feeling herself grow warm under his gaze. She shouldn’t be thinking of how, during the ghost hunt, she can probably pull him aside, away from prying eyes, and surprise him with a kiss…

Gale clears his throat. “That’s the end of the commemorance,” he says to the crowd. All around her, people are unbowing their heads and opening their eyes. Cat takes the opportunity to shoot Higgins a glare, which he returns with a smug smirk. “Let’s all have some fun at the coming events.”

This...thing between them, it’s still so new. After their odd, late breakfast the other day, the had talked for sometime about what this all meant for them – what they wanted, and what they didn’t. They’d both agreed – especially after Cat had related Sonia’s reaction to Django and Emily that night at The Round Table – that it would be best to keep things private between them until they had a better feel of the shape of things to come. The change in their relationship from antagonistic rivals to civil colleagues had been enough of a shock for most people in town. Inviting more commentary right now by adding romance into the pot feels like it might threaten the very small sprouts of this thing they are trying to grow.

They’ve already found other places where they clash, other resentments that have bubbled away behind their earlier hostilities, but they are approaching them openly, trying to navigate a path between them without compromising who they are. And it’s hard enough, trying to make the changes of the last few weeks shift into a new normal, without Antoine feeling the need to comment when they arrive at the Guild, one still only moments behind the other.

She hasn’t even told Albert. She feels a little guilty, since she had been keeping him up to date with all the X. stuff, but this is different. This has the potential to be something real. She has, however, told him that in her opinion, he should tell Gust how he feels.

“Of course it will change things,” she told him. “But is this really making you happy? Wanting him and being afraid to tell him? You’re friends, Albert, first and foremost. And I think even if you two don’t end up together, you are work past it. What you have is strong enough not to break from this.”

She doesn’t know if he’s taken her advice. She doesn’t know if she will. Right now, she has enough on her own plate to focus on.

She can feel Higgins edging through the crowd towards her. The townsfolk are beginning to disperse, to fill the day before the Scavenger Hunt starts at five. He reaches her, and gently touches her elbow.

“Busy today?”

“Unfortunately,” she sighs. “I’m a little bit behind on my commissions. Some insatiable fucker keeps demanding my attention and dragging me to bed.”

Higgins’ smirk returns, and she wonders if he is thinking, as she did, of the night before, when they had read through their letters together and begun to make good on some of the things they had promised. And, she remembers with a shudder, thinking of his mouth drifting down towards her cunt, some things they _hadn’t_ got around to discussing.

“Tsk tsk, alleycat. Slacking off? You won’t stay on top for long with that attitude.”

“I’ll show you on top,” she says, shooting him a heated glare, and she is delighted to see his smug expression slip a little as his eyes dart to her mouth. He shifts almost imperceptibly towards her, and she steps back, eyes glinting. “But you’re right, really. I should crack on with my work. Especially if I want to be on top form for the Hunt this evening. Bye for now, Higs.”

“Goodbye, kitten.”

The new nickname makes her shiver, as does the warm, playful tone he says it in. _Later_ , she tells herself. _Later_.

She does still want to beat him in the rankings, after all.

*

Cat makes good on her earlier hopes of a moment alone during the Scavenger Hunt, pulling Higgins to that same wall by The Round Table where it felt like things between them changed. He gives her a sly grin.

“Trying to finish what you started, hm?”

“Sadly, I’m all pantied-up today.” She leans in, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“You don’t know how much I wanted to reach under that dress of yours. It was hell, knowing, and knowing now how easily you get wet for me, I can just _imagine_ what I would have found…”

“You absolutely would,” she tells him, running finger down his chest. His eyes are dark with passion, and he brings her close to him in another kiss.

“I’m absolutely going to beat your score tonight, by the way,” she says when they break apart. Higgins raises a sceptical eyebrow.

“Oh, really? And you’re going to that by...what? Dragging me into dark alleys?”

Cat brings up her Intimidating Gun between them. “Don’t make me shoot, lover boy.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Let me leave unmolested and I’ll give you a head start, to be charitable.”

She leaves him with a final kiss, and goes a-hunting.

In the end, they tie for third place, with Sam and Erwa beating them both. It doesn't really feel like it matters, though, and haven't things changed?

They walk together down to where the lanterns are being set off, hands occasionally brushing against one another’s when there is no one behind them. They separate when they reach the table that’s been set up, Higgins taking a lantern over to Ginger and Gust, and Cat taking hers to where Albert is standing, watching them.

“I think I’m going to tell him. Tonight,” he says, when she approaches.

Cat gives him a warm smile. “I’m gonna be there for you, no matter what happens. You know that, right?”

Albert gives her a slightly shaky smile. “I do.” He looks down at his hands “I’m nervous.”

“It’s a nerve-wracking thing. But either way, you’re going to be alright.”

“Thanks, mate. I know. I know.”

She kisses his cheek before turning her attention to the sky. Lanterns are already drifting into the night above her, and she reaches up to let her own join its siblings winding their way up into the distance.

“What’s happened with your, er, writing friend?” Albert asks her, as she watches the lanterns rise.

“Oh, it’s a funny story. I’ll tell you sometime, after everything’s sorted one way or the other with Gust.”

Albert gives her a sidelong look. “You’re just trying to make sure I go through with it, aren’t you?”

She gives him a mysterious smile. “Maybe.”

He looks across again to where Gust is standing, and Cat follows his gaze. Higgins is still there, fussing over a lantern with Ginger, and she is still watching at the moment when Ginger laughs and releases it into the air. Gust watches her with overwhelming fondness, and then raises his gaze, looking past her, right at Albert. She can almost feel the moment the two men’s eyes lock, and Gust peels quietly away from his sister and begins to head over.

“Oh, crap. This is it, isn’t it? This has to be it.”

Cat squeezes his hand gently. “Good luck, Albert."

And then she steps away, melding into the crowd. She isn’t surprised, a few moments later, when familiar fingers wrap briefly around hers, before slipping away.

It’s a beautiful night, and oh, how she hopes there are many more to come.

*

“Don’t push me, Sonia! I’m obviously going to stand next to him for the photo!”

“I’m just making sure! Heaven knows how long you two kept your little romance under wraps before letting on to the rest of us. I have so much time annoying you about it to make up for.” Sonia gives Cat a wide grin, nudging her closer to Higgins.

The man in question turns just in time to catch her by the shoulders as she stumbles backwards. She looks up into his face, smiling. “Hello, you.”

“Hello, Cat.”

He turns her towards him, taking her hand in his and tipping her chin up to kiss her. Cat is fairly sure she can hear Sonia making some kind of unholy noise behind her, but right now, she doesn’t really care.

It’s been a few weeks since they started seeing each other publicly, and while it certainly came as a shock to some, the warming of relations between them over the past months had more than a couple of people declaring they had seen it coming. Albert, of course, had been among them.

She looks over to where her friend is standing. Gust is grousing as Albert and Ginger wind an absurdly fluffy scarf around his neck, but goes quiet and flushes when Albert presses a quick kiss to his cheek. He stops fussing about the scarf after that.

“Alright, everyone, it’s picture time!” Gale calls, and everyone shuffles up into their positions. Cat lets Higgins pull her towards the edge of the group, still not entirely comfortable being in the thick of things with others. She doesn’t mind. She’d rather be at the edges with him, anyway.

He is still holding her hand, and she edges closer, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Happy Solstice, bastard.”

“Happy Solstice, twerp.”

She squeezes his hand tightly as the flash goes off, smiling as widely as she ever has.

*

_My kitten,_

_There’s a gift for you in your bedroom. It reminded me of that dress of yours I’m so fond of – though naturally, less fit for other people’s eyes. I picked it up when I was last in Atara – that weekend you spent missing me so much I returned to that incredibly explicit letter of yours stuffed in my mailbox. Where anyone could have found it, Cat. You’re completely insatiable._

_H._

_*_

_My incredibly self-satisfied darling,_

_Obviously, the negligee is amazing. Obviously, I will do you the great pleasure of modelling it for you. But please don’t pretend like you didn’t dash over to mine immediately after receiving that letter and put large sections of it directly to use. You want this as much as I do, my dear, and I wouldn’t have it any other way._

_See you tonight._

_C._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short last chapter, but about half way through writing the Solstice scene came to me really clearly and I REALLY wanted to get it in. I hope you have all enjoyed this hopelessly sappy fic which ended up being a far cry for the smutty rival-lusting it was meant to be. Oh, well!
> 
> It's not the official playlist for this fic - there are a lot of other songs I'd add for that - but these are the songs I took the chapter titles and summary lyrics from:
> 
> Title: Detectorists - Johnny Flynn  
> 1\. Motel Room - Skrizzly Adams  
> 2\. Blank Space - Taylor Swift  
> 3\. Animal - Iron Eyes Cody  
> 4\. One Foot - Walk The Moon  
> 5\. Little Changes - Frank Turner  
> 6\. I Can't Stop This Feeling I've Got - Razorlight  
> 7\. Everywhere - Fleetwood Mac  
> 8\. Feeling This - Blink 182  
> 9\. About Love - MARINA
> 
> All comments adored. I'm considering doing some spin offs of this, either filling in the time gap in the last chapter or adding scenes, so let me know if there's anything you'd like to see - or what character you'd like to see exchanging letters with Cat next! Thank you for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> I think this will be about 6-8 chapters and I have about 4 written so far, so hopefully updates won't be too slow in the coming.


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